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1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

Scottish  Folk-Lore 


ox 


REMINISCENCES  OF  ABERDEENSHIRE 
FROM  PINAFORE  TO  GOWN 


BY 


THE  REV.  DUNCAN  ANDERSON,  M.A. 

AUTHOR  OF  "the  LAYS  OF  CANADA,"   ETC. 


EUtu!  fugaces  lahuntur  anni. 


•  ••  » 


-*      '        *      ■      i    II 


J  •  • 


•"  "•    /      *  •     •     •  .  . '     1      <  • 


NEW  YORK 

J.  SELWIN  TAIT  &  SONS,  PUBLISHERS 

65  Fifth  Avenue 


Copyright,  1895, 

BY 

J.  SKLWIN  TAIT  &  SONS, 
New  York. 


.  < .  1    < 


• '  • »  . 

•    »  '    »■ 


•  .    4  f    ,  , 


'  1    •     .     4       t       • 

»         »  •    •    • 


o 


TO  THEIR  EXCELLENCIES, 

Cfje  (Earl  anb  Countess  of  2lhetbttn, 

THIS  HUMBLE  WORK  IS  DEDICATED  BV 

SPECIAL  PERMISSION  ; 

DEDICATED,  IN  ACKNOWLEDGMENT  OF  SELF-DENYING  LABOKS, 

ON  TWO  CONTINENTS,  TO  PROMOTE 

HUMAN  happiness; 

IN  ADMIRATION  OF  UNTIRING  PERFORMANCE  OF  EVERY 
PUBLIC  AND  PRIVATE  DUTY  ; 
AND,   ESPECIALLY,   AS  AN  EXPRESSION  OF  THE 
EliAimEST  SYMPATHY  WITH  THAT  NOBLEST  OF  TASKS  THAT  THltT 
HAVE  CHOSEN  AS  PECULIARLY  THEIR  OWN- 
TO  BUILD  UP  AND  FOSTER 
AMONGST  AIJ.,  A  HIGHER,  A  PURER,  A  HOUBR 
BROTHERHOOD. 


M0NYMU8E,  November,  1891. 


GOTEBNMKNT  H0U8E,  OttaWA, 

October  15,  1895. 
Dear  Mr.  Anderson, 

To  be  associated  with  any  of  your  literary  or  other 
work,  and  more  especially  in  the  case  of  what  can- 
not  fail  to  be  a  very  interesting  narrative,  would  he 
agreeable  to  Lady  Aberdeen  and  myself;  therefore 
I  cordially  assent  to  your  kind  proposal  regarding 
the  dedication  of  your  forthcoming  book.  With  best 
wishes,  I  remain,  very  truly  yours, 

Absbdsbn. 


1 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MY    PINAFORE. 


PAQE 


Introductory.— The  Pinafore  I  wore. — The  cobbler's 
window  broken. — Interrupted  friendship.— Remorse.      5 

CHAPTER  II. 

SILLERTON  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

Products  :  Timber  and  whisky. — Sillerton's  geographi- 
cal position. — The  black  board  for  advertisements. — 
Standing  stone  for  the  beadle. — Public  notices  cried 
on  Sunday.  —  Incongruities  of  same.  —  Minister  and 
beadle  parade  for  church 13 

CHAPTER  III. 

SILLERTON  AND  ITS  NOTABILITIES. 

The  Episcopal  chapel.— The  tower  of  the  parish  church 
built  by  Malcolm  Canmore  for  a  groat  too  little. — 
John  Laing  and  his  visit  to  London. — The  exciseman 
no  naturalist.— Domestic  jars  in  consequence 17 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  DOMINIE. 

Louis  Alexander  Daflf  in  general. — His  preparations  for 
preaching  his  first  sermon. — Nervousness  causes  him 
to  retire  early  on  Saturday  night. — Sunday  dawns  but 
the  bird  has  flown 25 


10G130 


viii 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE  DOMINIE— CONTINUED. 


PAOB 


DafTs  clandestine  retreat. — Leaves  care  behind  and 
enters  Paradise. — Chief  gardener. — His  weak  point. — 
Reward  for  plagiarizing  a  psalm  of  David.— Sympathy 
between  visitor  and  host  increased  by  whisky.— Daff 
reaches  the  manse  when  the  "  kye  come  hame" 82 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  DOMINIE  MOUNTED. 

Daflf  tries  the  saddle. — Doctor  Lov/  and  he  do  now  row 
in  the  same  boat. — Daflf' s  terrible  ride  accelerated  by 
Low's  whip. — A  second  John  Gilpin  reaches  the  vil- 
lage.— Daff  retires  from  the  cavalry 37 

CHAPTER  Vn. 


A  DISSOLVING  VIEW. 

The  gig  supersedes  the  saddle.— Daff  employs  the  highest 
art  to  wield  the  curry-comb. — Dobbin  gets  more  exer- 
cise than  grooming. — The  author  up. — Man  and  horse 
down. — The  irate  Dominie  witnesses  the  catastroplie. 
The  currj'^-comb  changes  hands. — Daflf 's  aflfection  for 
the  lower  animals.— One  morning  birds  arrive,  but  no 
Daflf  is  at  the  window. — Last  will  and  testament 


44 


CHAPTER  Vm. 

THE  STICKIT  LAWYER. 

Sandy  Daflf  an  M.  A.,  but  fails  professionally. — Kindly 
message  to  Sandy  and  his  sisters. — The  messenger 
drops  "Idister"  and  has  to  run  for  it. — Successful 
campaign  against  the  caterpillars. — Sandy  insulted  by 
Baggs.— Revenge 57 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER  IX. 

DOCTOR  LOW'S   WATCH   LOST  AND  FOUND. 


PAOK 


Low  in  old  age. — Tlie  Doctor's  poverty. — Iluppy  Christ- 
mas thought— Shooting  rnatcli  on  old  Christmas  Day. 
—Last  shot  a  '*  bull's-eye."— The  watch  carried  home. 
— '*  Right-about-face." — Another  military  order,  "  As 
you  were." — The  blessedness  of  giving GO 

CHAPTER  X. 

HOW  MARY  MITCHELSON   DISHED  HER  HUSBAND'S  BROSE. 

Mary's  jjeculiarities. — Gc  i  )rge  Brodie's  excellent  appetite. 
— The  muzzle  too  often  ai)pliod. — Strained  relations. — 
War  declared  with  sad  results. — An  eye  lost,  and  a 
green  patch  won.  --Young  Brodie  at  school. — His 
mother  asks  a  question,  and  brings  down  the  house. — 
Her  sarcasm  scatlies  the  teacher,  and  sticks  to  him. — 
Nazareth  finds  a  synonym 70 

CHAPTER  XL 

THE  queen's  SCOTCH   AS  SPOKEN  IN  SILLERTON. 

Influence  of  hills  on  language,  etc. — A  Royal  Academi- 
cian on  the  warpath. — Finds  faces  where  Roy's  wife 
was  lost  to  Johnnie. — The  orra  man  learns  English  in 
a  fortnight. — Tullochgorum's  Scotch. — Spurious  edi- 
tion of  pronouncing  dictionary. — Walker's  key  to 
vowel  sounds  illustrated. — Wandering  Scotchmen  re- 
tain their  accent. — A  dominie's  "  ticks  "  with  result. 
—  A  comma  misplaced  almost  ruins  Diamond's 
master 77 

CHAPTER  XII. 

JEAN  BARDEN'S  JIILK  FOR  BABES. 

Traditionary  literature  of  an  exciting  character. — 
Jean'9  peculiar  talents. — Her  chamber  of    horrors, 


PAGE 


89 


X  CONTENTS. 

and  its  eflfect. — My  first  excursion  at  night. — A  basket 
of  bantams  and  the  Lord's  Prayer  as  a  sedative. — 
Shades  of  eveninjij  close  around. — Terrible  noises. — 
Treaclierous  fords. — Terrors  of  the  dismal  Howe  o' 
Coghard.— Home  at  last 

CHAPTER  XHI. 

THE  POOR  PRIOR  TO  THE  POOR  LAWS. 

The  kirk  session  dole.  —  Crumbs  from  the  farmers' 
tables. — Huts  of  the  poor. — Intolerable  smudge. — Ditto 
in  a  Canadian  camp,  with  its  uses. — Scarcity  of  light. 
— Marnoch  prefei-sliglit  from  the  cliimney. — Knitting 
stockings  a  source  of  revenue. — Elsewhere  weaving 
helped  the  poor. — David  going  home  with  liis  wark 
meets  the  Doctor. — The  Doctor  going  home  with  his 
wark  meets  David 103 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

LICENSED  BEGGARS,   THE  FATUOUS  AND  INSANE. 

No  king's  bedesmen  in  Sillerton. — Jean  Bay  licensed  to 
beg. — The  "  feels,"  so  called. — Jamie  Nuckel's  work 
and  wages. — Nuckle's  narrow  escape. — Sandy  Forbes' 
mail-bag. — An  heir-at-law  interdicted. — Jamie  Muir 
arrays  himrelf  in  tlie  "Garb  of  Old  Gaul." — His 
brother  a  madman. — Muir's  visit  to  the  school. — 
Scripture  reading  with  a  suggestive  razor  in  the  near 
foreground. — Better  arrangements  now 115 

CHAPTER  XV. 

CONVIVIALITIES  OF  SILLERTON. 

Football  with  poetical  description. — Halloween. — Yule. 
— New  Year's  Day. — The  ball. — Christenings. — Wed- 
dings.— Paternal  difficulties. — Repeated  attempts  and 
failures. — An  unanswerable  argument. — A  Highland 


COATTiWrS. 


wedding. — The  •'  Best  Man  "  in  the  wrong  place.— >The 
air  of  Speyside  dangerously  exhilarating. — Engage- 
ments and  interviews  in  i)rosi)ect. — Masterly  retreat 
upon  Bennachie. — Mountain  dew,  rather  than  moun- 
tain air  responsible  for  some  things 

CHxS.PTER  XVT. 


PAGE 


i:]0 


OTHER  SILLERTON  AMUSEMENTS  :   THE  SOCIETY  OP  GARDENERS. 

Moralizing. — Members  of  kirk  session  and  scribes  and 
Pharisees  tarred  with  the  same  stick. — Annual  fair  a 
general  holiday. — Meeting  of  the  Gardeners  ditto. — 
No  benefit  society. — Surplus  cash  goes  to  stomach  ac- 
count.— Oldmeldruni  brass  band  a  grand  feature  of 
the  day. — Brigadier-General  Sourie  and  his  outfit. — 
Parade  in  the  square. — March  to  Sillerton  House. — 
Floral  designs  and  prizes. — Annual  dinner  balances 
the  account. — Pretty's  love  of  good  clieer. — The  vil- 
lage wags  get  a  finger  in  the  pie,  and  Protty  dines 
again  on  sweetened  turnips 145 

CHAPTER  XVn. 

THE  WARS  OF  THE  ROSES. 

Wars  without  bloodshed.  —  Friendly  competition  be- 
tween rival  floriculturists. — The  Sillerton  boys  backed 
their  favorites  with  flowers. — General  Hay's  garden 
yields  an  almost  inexhaustiblo  supply  of  flowers,  but 
especially  of  roses. — The  General  sketched. — His  queue 
the  last  one  in  the  parish. — How  he  got  promotion ...  157 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PRACTICAL  JOKERS  AT  WORK. 

The  village  shop,  or  store.— Baggs  a  man  of  enterprise. 
— A  large  consignment  arrives  of  foot-gear  of  all  sorts, 
shapes  and  sizes. — Contract  made  for  a  supply  for  a 


zu 


CONTENTS. 


PAOB 

year  for  a  specified  sum.— Some  conditions  of  the 
contract.— When  contracting  parties  sign  the  docu- 
ment, the  laugh  decidedly  on  the  merchant's  side. — 
Indications  of  weakness  in  the  boots  the  first  Satur- 
day night. — The  second  Saturday  heavy  repaira 
ordered. —  Every  Saturday  night  brings  misery  to 
Baggs,  and  fun  to  Baggs'  assembled  customers. — The 
wind  changes,  and  the  laugli  now  decidedly  on  the 
other  side. — Baggs  almost  distracted,  and  at  last  the 
happiest  man  in  Sillerton  when  the  boot  contract 
comes  to  a  close. — Profit  and  loss  not  reported.  —Boot 
supposed  to  be  on  the  wrong  leg 166 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE    WINNING    LEO. 


The  Inverurie  markets  again. — The  usual  cavalcade 
that  rode  so  demurely  to  the  ancient  bugh. — The 
ride  home  not  quite  so  demure. — Probable  cause  dis- 
cussed.— The  Sillertonians  meet  at  the  same  hostelry 
before  mounting. — Tlie  unfailing  stirrup-cup. — Mine 
host  puts  money  on  his  own  leg. — Little  Sim  Edwards 
accepts  the  challenge. — The  tape  applied. — The  small 
man  wins  by  at  least  twt-  inches. — Ledingham  stands 
the  bottle  of  hot  Scotch. — Curiosity  excited  and  in- 
quiries made. — The  winner  owns  that  the  dregs  of 
fever  gave  him  the  "drop"  on  his  rival. — The  other 
leg  a  spindleshank. — The  story  gets  wind. — Leding- 
ham gets  dangerous.— Silence  in  this  case  the  winning 
card 


172 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  minister's  CHRISTMAS  DINNER. 

The  Rev.  Robert  Fordyce  not  a  practical  joker. — Re- 
ceives and  accepts  an  invitation  to  a  Ch-istmas  dinner. 
— John  Sprot,  the  parson's  man,  a  necessary  unit  in 


CONTENTS. 


XUl 


PAHE 

the  story. — Jchn's  proclivities  and  temptations,  with 
usual  consequences. — A  new  leaf  turned  over,  and 
cure  considered  permanent. — Renovation  of  hoi-se  and 
gig  successfully  accomplished. — Interruptions  by  a 
threatened  duel. — Becomes  peacemaker,  but  with  de- 
plorable consequences. — Horse,  gig  and  '.^an  brought 
to  manse  door.  —  Sprot's  position  not  considered 
"orthodox." — Carriage  declined  without  thanks. — 
The  Rev.  Robert  dines  that  day  at  home. — Sprot  im- 
mortalized in  song 179 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

sillerton's   burdens. 

A  "  crook  in  every  lot." — Feel  Jamie  put  in  the  witness 
box. — The  Feel  no  exception. — A  Irostile  bubbly-jock 
leads  him  asair  life. — Sillerton's  terrible  bubbly-jock. 
— Silver  nest-eggs  rare  in  the  parish. — The  game 
laws. — Tenants  comijelled  to  love  their  worst  enemies. 
— Sillerton  one  grand  "  game  preserve." — A  few  facts 
about  game. — Nearly  as  tame  as  cattle,  or  barn-yard 
fowls. — Thirty  thousand  rabbits  killed  in  one  year 
without  affording  relief. — Tenants  powerless  to  pro- 
tect themselves. — Financial  ruin  too  often  the  result. 
— Things  changed  now. — Living  witnesses  challenged. 
— A  gravestone  as  it  should  be 190 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

NON-INTRUSION.— THE  NIGHT  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE. 

Church  troubles  in  Scotland  generally, and  in  the  Garioch 
particularly. — Excitement  among  Sillerton  church- 
men at  zero,  among  Sillerton  Liitinists  it  reaches  212 
degrees.  —  Ecclesiastical  murmurs  become  material- 
ized.— Presentee  to  the  parish  of  Culsalmond  not  ix)pu- 
lar. — Feeling  out  of  the  parish  and  in  it. — Day  of 
settlement    appointed. — General  excitement. — Two 


XIV 


CONTENTS. 


P 


I 


PAGE 

Latiniots  start  to  witness  the  expected  fray  and  spend 
the  niyht  before  the  battle  in  the  village  of  Old  Rayne. 
— Disputations  all  round. — A  transition  from  history 
to  romance. — Facts  go  down  like  ninepins  and  brass 
''bears  the  bell." — The  enemy  in  full  retreat. — We 
sleep  the  sleep  of  tlie  ....  no,  the  sleep  of  the 
weary 203 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  CULSALMOND  RIOT. 

Cold  tramp  to  the  parish  church. — Men  from  all 
corners  of  the  Garioch  bound  for  the  same  place. — 
Scotch  foresight  and  creature  comforts. — The  hour 
approaches  and  hundreds  press  vound  the  church 
doors  to  prevent  the  entry  of  the  clergy. — An  insinu- 
ating constable  turns  the  key. — A  liuman  "crevasse." 
— Pei-sonal  experiences. — A  leap  for  life. — A  veritable 
pandemonium, — Presbytery  withdraws.  —  Induction 
conducted  in  the  manse. — Scenes  in  the  church. — 
Fears  that  the  clergy  might  return.— The  crowd  hold 
the  fort. — Members  of  the  Presbytery  slip  away 
homewards. — By-and-by  rioters  also  disperse. — The 
Rev.  Robert  Fordyce  very  reticent  about  the  events 
of  the  day. — A  jocular  parishioner  draws  the  badger, 
and  the  Rev.  Robert  for  once  loses  his  temper. — One 
minister  chased,  but  wins  the  race. — Poetic  effusions. 
— Culsalmond  psalms  still  in  existence. — Authorship 
unknoy/n.'-^Stat  noniinis  umbra 212 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
LAST  DAYS  AT  SCHOOL. 

Unremitting  school  grind. — Preparing  for  the  compe- 
tion  at  one  of  the  colleges. — No  cribs  in  those  days 
except  hard  work  and  self-denial. — Teacher  enthusi- 
astic and  pupils  sympathetic. — No  royal  road  to  us.— 


CONTENTS. 


XV 


PAGE 

The  mental  pap  we  had  to  masticate. — A  lion  in  the 
way. — Teachers  equal  to  the  occasion.— Quarantine 
established. — A  clean  bill  of  health. — Melvin's  Gram- 
mar booming,  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw  below  par. — Other 
disturbing  but  secret  influences.  —  Old  Aberdeen 
Grammar  School. — Belief  that  mysuccesHut  the  com- 
petition is  my  only  key  to  college. — Anxiety  thereby 
deepened. — Father  has  two  strings  to  his  bow. — Mid- 
night oil  burned  wholesale. — The  final  polish  applied. 
— Teacher's  book  closed. — Hopes  of  victory. — Adieu..  326 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

CONCLUSION.— THE  COMPETITION  AND  THE  GOWN. 

One  hundred  and  fifty  competitors  in  the  great  hall  of 
King's  College. — Competition  open  to  all. — First  day's 
work. — Second  day's  work. — Short  sketches  of  profes- 
sors.— Interval  between  competition  and  announce- 
ment of  prizemen  a  very  anxious  time. — Intermediate 
pondering  and  probabilities. — Sonu»  lost  their  heads, 
— Coolness  in  my  case  excluded  maxies. — Declaration 
day  dawns. — Crowds,  including  Sillertonians,  in  the 
college  hall. — Professors  in  high  i)laces. — Blind  old 
Principal  Jack  presides. — The  sacrist  an<l  sceptre. — 
The  roll  unfolds. — Every  name  greeted  with  thunders 
of  applause. — Successful  couipetitors  radiant  with  de- 
light.— With  me  hope  begins  to  sink  low. — Eleven 
names,  and  yet  no  Sillertonian. — The  twelfth  comes 
from  the  Principal's  lips. — It  is  mine. — Incredulous 
and  irresolute,  kindly  hands  push  nie  forward  to  the 
place  of  honor,  and  friendly  voices  cheer  me  to  the 
echo. — My  father  delighted. — He  leaves  that  evening 
for  home.— I  remain  lonely  but  happy.— The  fare- 
weU 287 


: 


INTRODUCTION, 

By  these  mysterious  tieis,  the  busy  power 

Of  memory  her  ideal  train  preserves 

Entire;  or  when  they  would  elude  her  watch, 

Reclaims  their  fleeting  footsteps  from  the  waste 

Of  (lark  oblivion. 

— Akenside. 

The  late  Dean  Ramsay  of  Edinburgh,  in  the  pref- 
ace to  his  Reminiscences,  says,  "  It  is  interesting  to 
preserve  national  peculiarities  which  are  passing 
away  from  us." 

The  remark  is  one  that  strikes  with  peculiar  force 
every  Scotchman,  and  as  the  years  go  by,  and  those 
who  capped  our  best  stories  with  some  of  their  own, 
join  the  majority,  the  feeling  deepens  with  us  that 
the  opportunities  of  preserving  such  peculiarities  are 
indeed  very  materially  lessening.  Not  much  more 
than  a  decade  of  years  has  passed  since  I  was  in- 
vited to  meet,  at  the  house  of  an  intimate  friend,  two 
or  three  acquaintances,  formerly  residents  of  Quebec, 
but  whose  lines  had  now  fallen  to  them  in  other 
places. 

We  were  all  of  us  of  that  class,  that,  loving  Scot- 

1 


lyiiiouucTiuy. 


land  as  il  should  be  loved,  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of 
telling,  and  hearing  told,  the  stories  of  our  native 
land. 

It  need  scarcely  be  remarked  that  the  snia'  hours 
were  reached  long  before  we  thought  of  separating. 
Before,  however,  Auld  Lang  Syne  was  sung,  the 
host  remarked,  "  What  a  pity  that  these  stories  that 
have  been  told  here  to-night  should  be  lost !  Could 
a  stenographer  have  been  stationed  within  earshot, 
what  an  interesting  paper  might  he  have  supplied  to 
thousands  of  readers,  and  would  not  the  object  be 
thus  gained  of  rendering  imperishable  what  after 
all,  may,  in  a  few  years,  be  difficult,  perhaps  im- 
possible, to  recall  ?  " 

This  remark  struck  us  all,  and  we  then  agreed,  that, 
if  ever  a  convenient  season  came,  we  would  put  our 
heads  and  pens  together,  and  endeavor  to  do,  each  in 
his  way,  what  the  reporter  might  have  done  for  us. 

That  convenient  season,  however,  never  came,  and 
when  I  looked  around  me  only  lately,  I  was  pain- 
fully reminded  that  it  could  now  never  come.  Im- 
pelled by  a  feeling  of  regret,  I  resolved  to  do  alone, 
in  a  humble  way,  what  might  have  been  so  much 
better  done  by  us  all.  I  felt  like  the  subaltern  under 
fire,  who  knows  that,  however  unfit  he  may  be,  yet 
it  is  still  his  duty  to  lead  on,  when  his  superior 
officers  have  been  laid  low  on  the  field  of  battle. 


IMHODUCriON, 


m 


ould 

fj 

jhot, 
3d  to 

1 

it  be 

M 

ifter 
im- 

CM 

that, 

our 

ih  ill 

^^^^^^^H 

V  us. 

and 

Kiin- 

Im- 

one, 

luch 

ider 

yet 

rior 

btle. 

But  how  to  perform  my  duty  in  the  best  way,  I  was 
at  a  loss  to  determine.  The  mere  stringing  of  anec- 
dotes together  did  not  take  my  fancy,  and  it  would 
be  difficult  to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  such  men  as 
IJamsay  and  O'Rell,  without  provikir-g  a  compari- 
si)n  that  might  be  at  least  unpleasant,  and  I  had,  in 
consequence,  to  relinquish  all  idea  of  relating  almost 
anything  except  what  was  mainly  my  own. 

Another  way  then  lay  open  to  me,  for  which  I  had, 
I  believed,  one  special  qualification,  and  that  way  I 
adopted.  So  far  as  my  recollection  of  hidividuals, 
and  of  circumstances  connected  with  them,  was  con- 
cerned, memory  never  failed  me.  Like  the  musician 
whom  two  or  three  notes  will  often  enable  to  repeat 
the  almost  forgotten  melody,  so,  on  recalling  some 
acquaintance  of  my  early  years,  the  outline,  at  first 
only  dim  and  indistinct,  becomes  gradually  clothed 
with  a  flood  of  light,  and  the  minutest  traits  of  ap- 
pearance and  character,  and  life  and  sayings,  stand 
out  boldly  as  if  I  had  been  contemplating  them  but 
yesterday.  This  decided  me.  I  had  no  intention  of 
creating  cliaracters  to  suit  my  story,  if  indeed  story 
it  might  be  called,  for  like  Canning's  needy  knife- 
grinder,  I  might  say — 

"Story  ?  God  bless  your  honor,  I  have  none  to  tell,  Sir," 

but  there  were  men  and  women  that  I  had  known 


lyTRODUCTIOtf. 


i 


nearly  a  half  century  ago,  and  these  I  would  call  as 
witnesses,  and  make  them  once  more  tell  their  own 
tale.  In  telling  it,  they  would,  at  the  same  time, 
give  a  faithful  picture  of  a  quiet  Aberdeenshire 
village  and  parish,  about  forty  or  fifty  yeais  ago. 

Why  I  have  used  on  my  title-page,  "From  Pina- 
fore to  Gown,"  is  readily  enough  explained.  I 
quickly  found  that  the  materials  on  hand  would 
soon  swell  to  the  proportions  of  a  somewhat  un- 
wieldy volume,  and  I  imagined  that  what  I  recol- 
lected of  Sillerton  from  boyhood  till  I  entered 
college,  would  be  sufficient,  in  size  and  quality,  to 
test  my  chances  of  success  as  a  faithful  historian  of 
folk-lore. 

I  have  contrived  to  throw  what  must  prove  a  very 
flimsy  veil  over  places  and  individuals,  but  I  feel 
persuaded  that  if  any  one  finds  himself  or  his  friends 
portrayed  in  these  humble  pages,  the  recognition  of 
the  likeness  will  not,  under  any  circumstances,  be 
accompanied  with  pain. 

I  may  add  that  I  have  attempted  to  sketch  Siller- 
tonians,  certainly  not  as  they  should  have  been,  but 
such  as  they  were ;  if  I  fail  to  interest  the  reader,  I 
must  pay  the  penalty  of  failure ;  if  success  crowns 
my  efforts,  I  shall  not,  in  that  case,  present  my 
P.  P.  C.  card. 

D.  A. 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


MY     P  I  X  A  F  O  R  K  , 

My  eyes  are  dim  with  childish  tears, 

My  heart  is  idly  stirred; 
For  the  same  sound  is  in  my  ears 

Which  in  those  days  I  heard. 

—Wordsworth, 
PiXAPORE,  did  I  say  ?  Yes,  it  was  a  blue  pinafore 
that  I  wore.  Whether  it  was  intended  for  orna- 
nient  or  use,  or  perhaps  for  >)oth  purposes,  I  cannot 
now  well  say,  but  yet  the  color  and  pattern  are  as 
well  stamped  upon  memory's  page  as  if  I  had  worn 
the  garment  but  yesterday. 

And  yet  sixty  years,  more  or  less,  make  a  long 
telescope  through  which  an  old  man  observes  a  pina- 
foie  that  he  wore  when  his  wavy  locks  hung  in 
ringlets  over  his  shoulders.  Sixty  years,  more  or 
less,  did  I  say?  Ah!  certainly,  not  less,  not  less. 
I  like  truth  under  any  circumstances,  although 


II 

I  ! 


e 


8C0TTI8U  FOLKLORE. 


sometimes  it  may  be  a  bitter  pill  to  swallow,  when 
swallowing  is  in  order. 

But  then,  what  of  more  ?  Well,  I  feel  compara- 
tively young  still.  Let  me  hear  the  whirr  of  a  hard- 
wood partridge  amongst  the  maple  branches  in  the 
dear  month  of  October,  and  then  what  eye  is 
brighter,  what  foot  is  fleeter,  than  mine?  Let  a 
north  shore  salmon,  fresh  from  the  icy  seas  of  Lab- 
rador, get  upon  my  line,  and  is  it  a  feeble  hand  that 
guides  him  through  swirl  and  pool  to  a  quiet  corner, 
or  a  feeble  voice  that  joins  in  the  joyous  whoop  that 
my  Indian  gives  as  he  lays  the  glittering  beauty  on 
the  pebbly  shore  ? 

But  yet  the  silken  ringlets  went  long  ago,  when 
my  mother,  with  tears  coursing  down  her  cheeks, 
Cut  them  all  away,  and  selected  only  one  to  fill  that 
locket  that  has  hung  unworn  now  for  nearly  fifty 
years.  But  there  are  curls  yet;  alas!  not  every- 
where, but  yet  in  fair  abundance,  and  with  a  few 
threads  of  silver  amongst  them,  and  making  them 
look  just  as  if  a  spiinkling  of  snowflakes  had 
touched  them  gently  amidst  the  frolics  of  the  Christ- 
mas time.    Not  less  then,  but  say  more. 

But  writing  of  snowflakes  reminds  me  of  the  first 
time  that  any  one  seemed  to  notice  that  Father  Time 
had  taken  liberties  with  me.  A  daughter  who  had 
spent  a  few  years  in  a  foreign  land,  and  who  never 


:?' 


m 


t« 


MY  PINAFORE. 


failed  to  break  down  when  the  choir  of  the  church 
where  she  worshipped  sung  Payne's  beautiful  hymn, 
"  Home,  Sweet  Home !  "  sent  us  unexpected  tidings 
of  an  intended  visit.  The  wintry  morning  was  bit- 
terly cold ;  the  loud  whistle  of  the  approaching  train 
had,  a  few  minutes  before,  intimated  its  arrival ; 
the  old  flag  was  run  up  to  the  mast-head  ;  the 
merry  jingUng  of  sleigh-bells  was  heard,  and  our 
long  absent  one  was  soon  folded  in  our  arms. 
There  were  no  dry  eyes  there,  for  do  they  not 
overflow  both  at  the  touch  of  joy  as  well  as  of 
sorrow  ? 

Looking  at  me  through  her  blinding  tears,  she 
said,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  "  Father,  let 
me  brush  tlie  snow  away  from  your  beard."  "  Ah, 
Janie,  that  snow  can  never  be  brushed  away.  It  is 
God's  harbinger  of  the  winter  of  age.  It  has  come 
to  stay." 

To  return  to  my  pinafore.  I  cannot  describe  ex- 
actly the  pattern,  yet  I  could  swear  to  it  among  a 
thousand.  Like  the  "  willow  "  pattern  on  our  own 
dinner  sets,  so  the  "  pinafore  "  pattern  must  have 
come  down  to  us  for  many  generations,  and  for  aught 
that  I  know  very  probably  suggested  the  idea  to  the 
artist  who  had  the  honor  of  designing  the  Star- 
spangled  Banner.  Why  I  so  clearly  recollect  that 
pinafore  I  have  an  idea.     There  seems  to  be,  at 


1 


8 


SCOTTISH  FOLKLORE. 


Ill 


times,  small  hooks  that  pin  tilings  firmly  to  memory, 
and  there  was  one  in  this  instance. 

It  was  a  beautiful  Sunday  morning  in  spring.  We 
were  all  dressed  accordingly.  Accordingly  means 
ready  for  church,  the  service  in  which  commenced 
in  those  days  at  the  very  reasonable  hour  of  noon. 
Father  had  arrived  from  a  distance  the  night  before, 
and  had  brought  small  presents  for  the  little  ones. 
Mine  was  a  somewhat  peculiar  imitation  watch, 
not  in  nickel  or  tin,  as  nowadays,  but  in  some  species 
of  delfware  that  shone  like  old  gold.  With  this  stuck 
in  a  pocket  put  in  my  new  pinafore  evidently  f  r  the 
occasion,  I  strolled  out  to  the  churchyard,  which  lay 
just  behind  the  village,  my  object  being  to  gather  a 
bouquet  of  gowans,  and  to  enjoy  myself  generally — 
that  is,  with  such  decorum  as  the  Sabbath,  or  at 
least  Scottish  parents,  demanded  of  little  folks  in 
Scotland  in  those  days. 

Wandering  among  the  grassy  mounds  that  marked 
the  places  where 

*'  The  rude  forefatlu'i-s  of  the  hamlet  slept," 

and  gathering  my  l)ouquet  of  daisies  and  primroses, 
1  found  myself  at  the  low  window  of  the  cobbler's 
shop  which  looked  out  upon  the  churchyard. 

I  had  never  looked  in  at  that  window  bef«»re.  Out 
of  it  I  had  often  looked,  for  Sandy  Simms,  the  viU 


i 


MY  PINAFORE. 


9 


lage  shoemaker,  and  I,  notwithstanding  the  dis- 
parity of  ages,  were  good  friends.  Sjindy  loved  to 
tell  a  good  story,  and  to  hear  one  us  well,  and  when 
the  hobbledehoys  came  to  have  their  shoes  patched, 
or  to  get  irons  fastened  upon  the  toes  of  their  heavy 
boots  in  preparation  for  a  game  of  football,  for 
which  pastime  the  village  boys  of  Sillerton  were 
famous  over  at  least  a  dozen  parishes,  Sandy's  tongue 
and  rozetty  ends  kept  good  time  together.  What 
the  forte  was  that  charmed  the  rustics  I  cannot  now 
remember ;  there  must,  however,  have  been  no  small 
art  displayed,  seeing  that  the  souter's  shop  almost 
rivalled  the  blacksmith's  smithy,  while  we  little 
folks,  if  we  did  not  quite  understand  the  gist  of  all 
we  heard,  yet  never  failed  to  show  unbounded  de- 
light, by  opening  not  only  ears,  but  also  eyes  and 
mouth,  at  the  souter's  eloquence.  Personally,  then, 
if,  indeed,  an  urchin  of  my  years  could  lay  claim  to 
a  distinct  and  separate  personality,  I  owed  Sandy 
no  grudge.  His  tongue  had  never  suggested  to  me 
that  it  was  time  for  small  boys  to  be  jogging  home- 
wards, nor  had  his  elison  ever  expedited  my  move- 
ments in  that  direction.  On  the  other  hand  the 
genial  souter  had  been  kindness  itself  personified. 

What  then  could  have  prompted  me  to  do  any- 
thing to  hurt  the  feelings  or  property  of  my  friend 
I  am  unable  to  say.    That  I  should  at  that  moment, 


10 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


i^ 


in  that  quiet  churcliyard,  on  that  calm  and  beauti- 
ful Sunday  morning,  draw  out  of  my  pocket  that 
newly-acquired  watch  and  with  it  coolly  and  de- 
liberately, as  if  from  malice  prepense,  break  a  pane 
of  glass  in  the  cobbler's  window,  has  proved  to  be  a 
problem  as  hard  of  solution  as  the  squaring  of  the 
circle  has  been  to  the  long- baffled  mathematician. 

Was  it  the  result  of  pride  in  the  possession  of  that 
spurious  imitation  of  a  timekeeper;  did  convenience 
snug  stir  up  the  treacherous  inclination;  or  was  it 
possible  that  the  very  deil  himself  whispered  in  the 
ear  of  my  heart  to  prove  my  manhood  by  breaking 
the  window  of  the  souter's  workshop? 

I  need  not  say  how  soon  remorse  came.  I  felt 
that  day  in  church  as  if  I  had  not  merely  broken  a 
pane  of  glass,  but  as  if  I  had  murdered  the  souter 
himself.  I  could  scarcely  say  my  short  prayer  that 
night,  and  for  days  after,  my  punishment  was  almost 
greater  than  T  could  bear.  Oh !  dear  Tom  Hood !  you 
must,  when  a  boy,  have  cracked  some  friendly  cob- 
bler's window  unprovoked,  else  never  could  you 
have  written  these  lines — 


■■I 


"  O  Heaven  !  to  think  of  their  white  souls, 
And  mine  so  black  and  grim  1 
I  could  not  share  in  childish  prayer, 

Nor  join  in  evening  hymn  : 
Like  a  Devil  of  the  Pit  I  seem'd 
'Mid  holy  Cherubim  !" 


MY  PINAFORE. 


For  months  after  I  would  have  walked  a  Scotch 
mile  rather  than  pass  that  wretched  window  with 
the  patched  pane  of  glass  in  it,  and  I  never  had  the 
courage  to  enter  Sandy's  workshop  again.  Alas!  it 
is  conscience  that  niakes  cowards  of  us  all.  What 
wonder  then  was  it  that  my  little  ears  ceased  to 
listen  to  the  old  stories  that  T  had  so  often  heard  he- 
fore  from  the  eloquent  lips  of  the  kindly  soutei",  or 
that  I  had  never  forgotten  the  blue  pinafore  that  I 
iiad  worn  on  that  eventful  and  sadly-to-be-lamented 
Sunday  morning? 


f 


12 


iSCOTTISH  FOLK-LOBE. 


% 


CHAPTER   II. 

SILLERTON    AND    ITS    SURROUNDINGS. 

How  Still  the  morning  of  the  hallowed  day; 
Mute  is  the  voice  of  rural  labor  ;  hushed 
The  plougliboy's  whistle  and  the  uiilkniaid's  song. 

— Grahame. 

SiLLERTON,  after  nil,  was  a  strange  name  for  a 
quiet,  impecunious  village,  or  rather  quiet  country 
parish.  In  fact  the  godfathers  and  godmothers  of 
that  ilk  must  have  l-een  wags  in  their  way,  and 
given  the  name  on  the  Lucns  a  non  lucendo  princi- 
ple, for  siller  did  not  lie  about  promiscuously  in  the 
village,  or  in  the  parish  either.  It  is  true  that  tliere 
were  considerable  operations  in  timber  carried  on 
in  the  neighborhood,  but  these,  beyond  giving  a 
miserable  wage  to  a  few  men,  filled  the  pockets  of 
the  laird  only,  who  knew  well  how  to  earn  and  how 
to  keep  his  profits. 

There  was  also  a  distillery  that  manufactured  a 
limited  quantity  of  the  genuine  mountain  dew,  but 
very  limited  tliat  quantity  must  have  been,  seeing 
that  the  manager,  when  trying  to  sell  his  goods  one 


m 


Sk 


SILLERToy  A.WIJ  ITS  SUliJiOUy Dl\(iS.       13 


market  day  to  a  jolly  farmer  who  was  noted  for  the 
(quantity  and  quality  of  his  liquor,  and  being  told 
that  unless  he  lowered  his  prices  he  might  shut  up 
shop  altogether,  at  once  retorted — "  Na,  na, man;  as 
lang's  we  hae  the  same  manager  and  the  same  part- 
ners we  are  quite  capable  of  drinking  the  haill  browst 
oursels."  It  is  aluiost  needless  to  say  that  the  bib- 
ulous manager  got  an  order  on  the  spot. 

tSillerton  then  was  somewhat  like  Rob  Rorison's 
bonnet.  "It  was  not  the  boimet,  but  the  head  that 
was  in  it,"  and  so  with  SilJerton  :  it  was  not  so  much 
the  locality  that  we  should  desire  to  place  before 
the  readers  as  the  notabilities  that  lived  there. 

Once,  on  questioning  an  old  crone,  on  the  deck  of 

an  arriving  Quebec  liner,  what  part  of  Scotliuid  she 

hailed  from,  the  answer  came  without  a  moment's 

hesitation,  "  Sooser  than  Golspie,  at  anyhoo,"  Golspie 

being  rather  in  proximity  to  John  o'  Groat's.     Here 

we  shall  be  more    precise,   Sillerton  lay  on  a  low 

valley  on  Donside,  and  in  full  view  of  the  last  peak 

of  the  Grampian   range  that  overlooks  the  whole 

Buchan   district,   and   recalls   to  our   memory  the 

well-known  line  or  lines,  often  quoted  on  the  east 

coast : — 

"  Tap  o'  Noth  and  Bennachie 
Are  twa  landmarks  o'  the  sea." 

The  village  occupied  a  central  position  in  the 


■f 


14 


bCOTTiaU.  FOLK-LORE. 


i 

v  ■  i  till'" 


parish,  and  was  composed  of  about  two  dozen  dwell- 
ing-houses, un  imposing  church  that  very  probably 
once  formed  part  of  an  ancient  abbey,  a  good  school 
and  schoolhouse,  an  excellent  inn,  where  man  and 
beast  could  always  command  the  best  attention 
possible,  and  the  village  stove,  where  the  guid  wife 
could  exchange  her  butter,  cheese,  and  eggs  for 
those  creature  comforts  that  warm  alike  the  outer 
and  inner  man.  Add  to  these  the  meal  mill, 
the  smithy,  the  carpenters  and  the  shoemaker's 
workshops,  and  last,  though  not  least,  the  famous 
distillery,  and  you  have  a  fair  picture  of  Sillerton. 

Ah!  could  I  sweep  away,  as  by  magician's  wand, 
half  a  century  of  years ;  could  I  summon  the  old 
villagers  to  return,  and  ))e  as  they  once  were,  wliat 
a  shaking  of  dry  bones  would  be  in  that  old  church- 
yard! What  strange  groups  would  pass  along  the 
street;  how  quaint  would  appear  their  habiliments  ; 
how  different  from  wiuit  the  village  man  or  maid 
may  now  display ! 

Come,  let  us  stand  at  the  old  iron  gate  that  sep- 
arates the  village  of  the  living  from  the  homes  of  the 
dead.  Closed  during  the  busy  week,  if  indeed  Siller- 
ton was  ever  busy,  it  opens  only  on  the  day  of  rest, 
to  admit  the  worshippers  to  the  house  of  God,  or  to 
wander,  perchance,  for  a  brief  space  until  the  bell 
proclaims  the  hour  of  prayer, — wander,  we  say, 


HILLERTON  AND  ITS  SUIiROUyDINGS.       15 


amongst  the  countless  mounds  that  mark  tlio  last 
restmg-phices  of  departed  ones  whom  we  never  knew, 
and  of  some,  too,  whom  we  knew  right  well  nnd 
whose  memory,  yet  fresh  and  green,  may  hr'iu^  a  tear 
to  the  eye  and  sometimes,  alas  I  a  pang  to  the  heart. 

A  framed  board,  attached  to  the  church  wmII,  is 
eagerly  scanned  by  the  gathering  crowd,  anxious  to 
learn  what  matters  of  public  interest  are  there  re- 
corded for  the  benefit  of  the  good  folks  of  Sillerton  : 
while  near  by  stands  a  stone,  somewhat  elevMted 
above  the  ground,  on  which  the  beadle  will  by  and 
by  take  his  stand,  at  the  "skailin'  o'  the  kirk,"  and, 
in  stentorian  tones,  announce  the  coming  events  of 
importance  that  are  on  the  tapis  for  the  week,  pei'- 
haps  ending  with  the  pleasant  announcement  that 
Jamie  Uobb,  the  pedler,  will  hold  a  riffle  of  Carse  o' 
Gowrie  apples,  handkerchiefs,  and  tobacco,  on  \yed- 
nesday  evening  next,  at  the  farm  of  Flechneuk,  and 
closinp",  very  likely,  with  the  remark  that  there  would 
be  a  dance  after  the  raffle. 

How  strange!  some  will  say,  and  this  too,  in 
Sabbath-keeping  Scotland  !  Ah  !  fifty  years  hence 
old  men  may  be  telling  to  astonished  listeners  that 
they  often  heard  ministers  reading  notices  from  the 
pulpit  that  had  long  ere  tlien  found  their  proper 
place  among  the  advertisements  of  the  daily  or 
weekly  newspaper. 


T 


le 


SCOTTISU  FOLKLORE. 


^      I. 


But,  hush !  the  bell  has  ceased  tolling ;  the  wan- 
derers iiiiioiigthe  green  mounds  are  hurrying  nearer 
the  church  door;  while  Dawvid  Dunbar,  the  bea- 
dle, looms  in  sight,  walking  slowly  from  the  manse 
gate  towards  the  church,  and  carrying  in  his  hand 
the  large  pulpit  Bible,  while  behind  him,  with  equal 
pace,  but  with  infinite  dignity,  rolls  along  the  Rev- 
erend Robert  Fordyce,  M.  A.,  minister  of  the  parish 
of  Sillerton. 

The  crowd  that  till  then  had  been  enjoying  the 
usual  "  crack,"  file  in  rapidly  as  the  steps  of  the 
beadle  and  parson  draw  near  the  iron  gate,  the  last 
to  enter  being  a  couple  that  had  availed  themselves 
of  the  opportunity  that  the  morning's  walk  afforded 
of  whispering  munnurings  of  love  to  each  other, 
and  who  now  enter  the  sacred  edifice  by  different 
doors,  for,  strange  to  say,  there  were  at  least  ha!f  a 
dozen  side  doors  in  the  church  of  Sillerton. 

At  last,  all  have  found  their  places  in  the  different 
seats  set  apart  for  the  parishioners  ;  the  principal 
door  is  swung  to  upon  its  massive  hinges ;  there  is 
a  moment  or  two  of  almost  painful  silence;  and 
then,  rising  majestically  in  his  plain  but  seemly  pul- 
pit, the  minister  of  Sillerton,  in  slow  and  solemn 
t/^nes,  opens  the  service  of  the  sanctuary  in  the  well- 
known  phrase — "  Let  us  worship  God  by  singing  to 
His  praise  in  the  Hundredth  Psalm." 


aiLLEiiTuy  Ayn  rra  suTAJiiLUiEs. 


17 


CHAPTER  III. 


and 

|pul- 

mm 

rell- 

|gto 


SILLERTON  AND  1T8  NOTABILITIES. 

And  the  guid  Culdees  o'  Sillerton 
Might  plead  for  King  Malcohn'a  repose, 

Wha  vow'd  to  Sanct  Andrew,  their  haly  house, 
For  victory  o'er  his  foes. 

"  TJie  DeviVs  Stane  o'  Kemnay,'"  slightly  altered. 

We  were  interrupted  in  our  description  of  Siller- 
ton and  its  surroundings  by  the  commencement  of 
public  worship  in  the  parish  church.  We  shall  now 
resume  our  subject,  and  Sillerton  once  properly 
located,  as  an  American  would  probably  put  it,  we 
may  now  proceed  to  sketch  a  few  of  its  notabilities. 
There  were,  in  those  golden  days,  no  dissenters,  so 
called,  in  the  parish.  Had  Sillerton  possessed  a 
Temple  of  Janus,  the  doors  would  undoubtedly  have 
been  closed,  and  the  janitor  might  have  safely  locked 
them  and  become  a  Rip  Van  Winkle  for  a  few 
years  without  any  dread  of  interruption  to  his 
slumbers. 

The  only  other  place  of  worship,  besides  the  par- 
ish church,  was  a   small  Episcopal  chapel,  once  a 


I 


t8 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE, 


lapidary's  workshop,  with  a  unique  history  of  its  own, 
l>iit  now  coiisiderubly  remodelled,  and  almost  covered 
^^  ith  ivy,  and  showing  a  Maltese  cross  upon  either 
gal)le,  as  if  to  indicate  its  now  sacred  character. 

This  building  accommodated  sufficiently  a  small 
number  of  the  parishioners  who  still  chnig  to  the 
Episcopal  form  of  worship,  and  who,  along  with  about 
a  dozen  aristocratic  famili(3S  who  diove  tlieie  from 
considerable  distances  around,  waited  upon  the  n)in- 
istrations  of  the  IJev.  William  Walcott,  M.  A.,  well 
known  for  his  Broad  Church  proclivities,  an  excel- 
lent scholar,  an  author  (afterwards)  of  consider- 
able notability,  and  who,  notwithstanding  all  these 
accomplishments,  had  yet  the  good  sense  to  preach 
sermons  that  were  never  known  to  exceed  fifteen 
minutes  in  the  delivery. 

The  church  of  Sillcrton,  as  has  been  said,  was 
once  probably  part  of  an  abbey,  but  the  steeple,  to 
which  the  church  itself  seemed  a  "lean-to,"  was  of 
a  much  more  ancient  date,  and  w'as  generally  sup- 
posed to  have  been  built  by  Malcolm  Can  more,  King 
of  Scotland.  "Well  it  may  be  that  Canmoi'e  was 
a  first-class  fighting  man,  but,  judging  from  his  at- 
tempt at  building  towers,  he  must,  as  an  architect 
have  proved  a  sad  failure.  We  cannot,  indeed,  even 
with  all  our  admiration  for  the  great  Malcolm,  con- 
gratulate the  ancient  king  upon  the  beauty  of  con- 


l>lLLEliTOy  AND  ITS  NOTABILITIES. 


10 


ception  displayed,  though  certainly  in  durability  i)f 
material  used  lie  takes  the  eake. 

It  is  at  least  curious  also  that  the  tower  of  Sil- 
lerton  church  should  have,  in  one  respect — that  is  to 
say,  in  the  precise  and  exact  an^ount  of  overcharge  or 
undercharge  of  price  for  value  received — resembled 
the  breeches  of  King  Robert  the  IJruce.  The  latter 
were  too  dear,  the  former  too  cheap.  Tradition  has 
it  that  the  king  was  somewhat  stingy  with  the  royal 
tailor — as  the  song  says  : — 

"  In  days  when  our  King  Uohert  rang, 
His  trews  they  cost  but  half  a  croon  ; 

He  said  they  were  a  groat  ower  dear, 
And  ea'd  the  tailor  thief  an'  loon." 

On  the  other  hand,  it  has  also  been  handed  down 
that  when  the  mason  who  built  the  tower  of  Siller- 
ton  had  finished  his  work,  and  was  on  his  way 
homewards,  he  looked  back  at  the  building  and  said, 
"  Had  I  got  a  groat  more  I  would  have  been  satisfied." 
Groats  must  have  been  scarce  in  those  days.  Is  it 
possible  also  that  that  dissatisfied  mason  had  read 
the  life  of  Hiram  King  of  Tyre,  who  aided  Solomon 
in  his  great  work,  and  thereafter  expressed  anything 
but  satisfaction  with  the  return  made  by  the  Wise 
King?  Being  a  Scotchman,  and  likely  an  Aber- 
donian  at  that,  this  may  have  well  been  so,  and  the 
groat  too  little  in  the  case  of  the  tower  builder  was 


ill 


In 


20 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


much  the  same  as  the  cities  in  Galileo  that  Iliram 
80  heartily  despised. 

Now  ill  attempting  to  describe  the  notabilities  of 
Sillerton,  I  feel  it  slightly  difticult  to  decide  exactly 
where  to  begin.  Are  the  greater  or  lesser  lights  to 
conielhst? 

l>ut,  as  we  now  stand  facing  the  tower,  the  puzzle 
seems  solved  by  beginning  at  the  right  hand. 

Poor  old  John  Laing  was  not  much  of  a  notability, 
and  yet  I  could  not  consider  a  photo  of  Sillerton 
correct  without  John  Laing  somewhere,  even  though 
in  the  background. 

John  was  an  elderly  bachelor,  and  lived  for  many 
years  in  the  village  with  his  old  mother,  known  in 
the  parish  by  the  euphonious  name  of  Rachie  Pirie. 
John  must  have  been  a  sort  of  gardener  in  his  young 
days,  and  still  enjoyed  the  monopoly  of  trimming 
hedges,  pruning  trees,  and  of  generally  superintend- 
ing the  nurseries  that  supplied  material  for  planting 
the  waste  places  of  Sillerton. 

I  can  imagine  that  I  see  John  Laing  before  me 
now — a  thin,  taU  old  man  with  gray  hair,  and  cling- 
ing to  the  stovepipe  hat  that,  Sunday  or  Saturday, 
he  always  wore. 

Once  he  was  summoned  to  give  evidence  in  London 
before  a  Committee  of  the  House  of  Commons  in  con- 
nection with  some  local  enterprise,  and  what  a  wealth 


I 


# 


■m 


SILLKHTON  AND  ITS  yOTABILITIES. 


21 


of  story  flowed  from  that  little  episode  in  liis  life! 
Not  Stiinley  in  his  "  Darkest  Africa  "  could  awaken 
interest  in  the  breasts  of  his  uncounted  readers  and 
admirers  equal  to  the  admiration  that  beamed  in  the 
faces  of  his  youthful  audience  as  Lainj^  described  his 
wonderful  experiences  on  the  round  trip  between 
Sillerton  and  London. 

Th(^  modern  globe-trotter  would  have  played  only 
second  ti(hlle.  I  would  not  willingly  touch  the  truth- 
fulness of  Jolin's  reports,  but  deep  in  my  memory  lies 
the  conviction  that  the  youth  of  Sillerton  had  been 
taught  to  believe,  and  by  one  who  knew  it  too,  that 
the  choicest  dish  on  the  Royal  table,  and  also  often 
the  only  one  there  was  "  Cream  porridge  and  cream 
to  them." 

The  occupant  of  the  other  half  of  Laing's  house 
was  the  exciseman.  Now,  it  generally  was  the  case 
that  the  poor  exciseman  was  a  species  of  pariah  of 
society — an  outcsist — and  thjit  were  the  devil  to 
cany  him  away,  body  jind  bones,  there  would  be  few 
old  wives  in  Scotland  who  would  not  take  up  the 
chorus  of  that  inimitable  song  of  Burns — 

"We  v/ish  you  luck  o'  your  prize,  man  ! " 

In  Sillerton,  however,  no  such  feeling  existed; 
the  "ewie  wi'  the  crookit  horn"  had  long  died  out, 
and  as  the  ganger's  duties  were  nearly  altogether 


SP 


22 


scornsu  folk-lore. 


confined  to  the  operations  of  the  distillery  his  in- 
tercourse with  the  people  generally  was  entirely  of 
a  social  character,  and  in  consequence  he  became 
"  Good-fellow- well-met  "  throughout  that  district  of 
the  country,  and  was  more  frequently  and  perhaps 
more  pleasantly  employed  testing  the  good  qualities 
of  SiUerton's  usquebaugli  with  sugar  and  water  than 
in  measuring  the  quantities  tliat  flowed  into  his 
bonded  cellars,  or  in  tramping  thi-ough  moss  and  mire 
to  discover  some  venturous  Scot  reaping  the  for- 
bidden fruits  of  the  little  still. 

I  remember  an  adventure  of  the  exciseman  that 
excited  no  little  merriment  in  the  village.  "I'he  excise- 
man in  this  instance  was  a  family  man,  the  husband 
of  a  thrifty  wife,  and  the  proud  father  of  at  least  half 
a  dozen  bairns. 

It  so  happened  that  x»I:s.  M'Kay,  in  a  fit  of 
economy,  suggested  to  her  husband  that  their  ordi- 
nary expenses  would  be  considerably  reduced  were 
he  to  invest  a  little  cash  in  a  milch  cow.  The  excise- 
man pleased,  liked  John  Gilpin,  to  find  that  his  lov- 
ing spouse  was  possessed  of  a  frugal  mind,  at  once 
acquiesced,  and  as  there  was  a  "  roup  "  at  the  farm 
of  Nethermains  the  following  week,  it  was  decided 
that  on  that  eventful  day  the  ganger  should  pro- 
ceed thither,  and  that  if  cows  were  sold  for  any- 
thing like  feasible  prices,  he    should  become  the 


SILLERTON  AND  ITS  yoTAIilLiriES. 


23 


a 


purcliaser  of  one,  and  at  once  bring  his  prize  home 
with  him. 

On  the  day  of  sale  the  excisenian  sallied  forth 
accordingly  to  purchase  the  coveted  cow.  Tiie  ganger, 
however,  no  matter  how  competent  he  mi  .;li!  !><'  to 
tell  the  quantity  and  quality  of  a  cask  of  \\iiisky, 
felt  that,  in  gauging  the  qualities  of  a  cow,  he  was 
somewhat  at  sea,  and  so,  after  obtaining  the  opinion 
of  two  or  three  cronies,  and  treating  each  expert  in 
the  usual  way,  he  himself  got  about  half  seas  over ; 
the  advice  or  advices  he  had  received  got  considerably 
mixed ;  and  the  result  was  somewhat  different  from 
what  he  intended,  and  from  what  his  better  half  had 
desired. 

Somewhere  amongst  the  small  hours  the  honest 
but  fuddled  gauger  might  have  been  seen  leading  a 
quadruped  into  the  byre  that  had  been  prepared 
before'iiind  for  the  purchase,  but  as  every  member 
of  his  family  liad  long  ere  then  gone  to  sleep,  it 
devolved  upon  ^fr.  M'Kay  to  make  his  cow  com- 
fortable for  tlie  night. 

Somewliat  later  on  his  better  half  learned  that  the 
cow  was  awaiting  her  attentio]),  and,  armed  witli  tlic 
ordinary  milking  pail,  she  procecdcfl  to  l)usiness. 
The  result  was  almost  fatal  to  Iler  Ma  j^^sty's  collector 
of  Excise.  A  quadruped  wasin  thesUiblc  l»nt,  alas  ! 
the  bovine  characteristics  were  entirely  \\aiitiii<»; : 


n 


! 


24 


SCOTTISU  FOLK-LORE. 


the  obfnscjited  ganger  hiid,  instead  of  a  cow,  bought 
a  horse. 

The  wrath  of  Mrs.  M'lvay  in^eded  no  nursmg  to 
keep  it  warm ;  it  attained  incandescent  heat  at 
once  ;  and  the  hapless  extnseinan  I  iiow  did  he  fare? 
Well,  I  would  pref.'M"  iK)t  to  pe^netrate  too  deeply  into 
the  secrets  of  any  njun's  lireside,  but  this  1  may  say, 
that  if  little  milk  came  from  the  byre,  there  was  a 
corresponding  scarcity  of  the  milk  of  Imman  kind- 
ness everywhere  about  the  ;^;iuoei's  surroundings 
for  some  time.  The  waos  of  Sillerton  did  not 
readily  forget  the  oft-tol<l  story  of  the  exciseman 
leading  home  by  a  halter  his  so-called  cow. 


i 


Wi 


TEE  DOMINIE. 


26 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE  DOMINIE. 


And  still  the  wonder  grew 

That  one  small  head  should  carry  all  he  knew. 

—Goldsmith. 

In  the  tall  house  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  gate 
lived  the  Reverend  Louis  Alexander  Daff,  M.  A.,  the 
parish  schoohnaster.  At  the  time  I  first  recollect, 
the  Reverend  Louis,  he  had  retired  from  some  of  the 
duties  of  active  life,  and,  in  consequence,  employed 
an  assistant,  who  attended  to  parochial  duties,  while 
he  himself  enjoyed  the  major  part  of  the  revenue 
that  made  the  parish  schoolmaster  an  envied  man. 
But,  notwithstanding  that  the  old  dominie  had  not, 
for  several  years,  wielded  the  taws  in  training  the 
young  ideas  of  Sillerton  how  to  shoot,  yet  his  history 
was  peculiarly  green  in  the  memories  of  his  contem- 
poraries, and  how  often  has  the  writer  of  this 
listened  to  the  quaint  stories  of  his  life,  and  the 
peculiar  traits  of  character  that  he  had  shown 
during  an  incumbency  that  had  exceeded  half  a 
century ! 


f 


26 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


Could  we  but  hear  the  village  worthies,  as  they 
gathered  in  the  smithy  on  certain  occasions,  or  while 
they  crowded  the  merchant's  shop  on  a  Saturday 
evening,  telling  anecdotes  of  the  old  pedagogue,  it 
would  be  a  treat  that  Max  O'Rell  himself  might 
long  to  enjoy.  "  Weel,  he  may  be  a  very  douce  man 
noo,  but,  by  my  certie,  he  wisna  aye  that,"  and  so 
out  the  story  came,  amongst  many  others,  of  how 
Louis  preached  his  first  sermon  at  Sillerton ;  in  fact, 
this  is  a  species  of  Scottish  bull,  seeing  that  on  the 
occasion  alluded  to,  when  Louis  certainly  should 
have  preached,  Louis  did  not  preach  at  all. 

We  may  just  here  state,  for  information's  sake, 
that  the  parish  school  was  frequently  the  first  rung 
.  f  the  ladder  that  led  to  the  parish  church,  and  the 
incumbent  of  the  school  of  Sillerton,  in  his  youth, 
anned,  like  most  other  dominies,  at  not  only  "  shakin' 
his  head  in  a  pu'pit,"  but  at  exclianging  the  ferula 
of  authority  that  he  wielded  for  some  cosy  parish 
church — nay,  perhaps  for  that  of  Sillerton  itself, 
which  his  father  then  occupied,  and  who,  under 
ordinary  circumstances,  might  betimes  require  an 
assistant  and  successor. 

The  old  minister,  therefore,  was  as  anxious  as  his 
son  that  the  latter  should  become,  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, a  licensed  preacher  of  the  Gospel,  and  thus 
a  fit  candidate  for  any  pastoral  charge  that  might 


TUK  DOMIME, 


27 


offer.  Tlie  ordiiiiU'v  sessions  had  been  taken  at  tlu; 
Divinity  Hall,  the  ()r<liiiary  cxaiiiiiialion.s  had  been 
undergone  by  the  candidate  for  eliurch  patronage, 
and  after  the  last,  Louis  Alexander  was  licensed  l>y 
the  Presbytery  to  preach  the  (iospel,  the  Presbyteiy 
leaving  it  to  the  licentiate  to  choose  some  churi^h, 
within  tlie  bounds,  where  his  first  sermon  should  be 
preached. 

Now,  there  was  no  little  delicacy  here.  In  your 
native  parish  where  you  had  fooled  with  most  of  the 
young  men,  l)()th  in  school  and  college  days,  and 
where,  perhaps,  you  might  have  made  love  to  a  few 
of  tlie  prettiest  maidens — and  there  was  truly  no 
lack  of  that  commodity  either  in  the  village  or  in 
the  parisii  — It  was  no  easy  matter  for  a  participant 
in  all  these  vaiuLies  to  cast  off  at  once  the  old  slough 
of  worldly-mi ndedness,  trip  up  gayly  the  pulpit 
stairs,  and  become  at  once  the  monitor,  nay  per- 
chance, the  judge,  of  those  who  had  formerly  (ah ! 
how  shoi-t  a  time  ago)  joined  in  his  folly. 

But  Louis  Alexander  had  been  somewhat  a  sly 
dog,  and  his  old  father  had  no  knowledge  of  any- 
thing whatever  that  might  have  brought  the  faintest 
blush  to  the  young  dominie's  cheek,  as  he  entered, 
for  the  first  time,  his  father's  pulpit. 

I  do  not  exactly  know  what  Louis'  feelings  were  on 
that  eventful  Saturday  that  preceded  the  day  when 


28 


SCOTTISH  FO L K- L ORE. 


he  was,  by  his  father's  special  request,  to  liold  forth 
to  the  parishioners  of  Sillerton.  Days,  )iay,  niglits 
as  well,  had  been  spent  in  his  preparations ;  his  care- 
fully-conned sermon  had  received  its  final  touches ; 
the  other  parts  of  the  service  had  also  received  due 
attention,  and  nothing  remained  but  that  the  actual 
performance  should  be  in  keeping  with  the  success- 
ful rehearsal. 

Yet.  notwithstanding  all  the  preparations,  Louis 
Alexariier  was  not  a  particularly  happy  man  on 
ta;  t       .j'^^ul  Saturday. 

The  work  of  the  forenoon  in  the  school  engaged 
his  i  tiei^ioii  ♦"  '  some  time,  but  as  Scaturday  was  a 
half-holiday  in  Scotland  even  in  those  early  days, 
the  vacant  afternoon  left  Daff  considerably  too 
much  time  to  think  over  the  trying  ordeal  that 
awaited  him  in  his  father's  pulpit  the  next  day. 
Evening  came  at  last,  and  after  a  hurried  tea,  par- 
taken of  very  sparingly  by  the  embryo  preacher,  he 
retired  to  his  own  room,  leaving  orders  that  he 
should  not  be  disturbed  till  breakfast  time  the  fol- 
lowing morning. 

Gradually  the  shop  and  smithy  poured  forth  their 
respective  groups  of  honest  ploughmen  that  dropped 
in  at  the  village  on  a  Saturday  night  to  get  a  sock 
sharpened,  or  perhaps  to  purchase  an  ounce  or  two 
of  good  twist  tobacco  j  maybe  to  get  a  glimpse  of 


THE  DOMINIE. 


29 


some  bonriie  lassie  thut  found  it  necessary  to  sear(3h 
around  for  a  seemly  peat  wherewitli  to  "rest"  her 
fire  for  the  night,  for  mind  you  those  were  yet 
scarcely  the  days  of  lueifer  matches.  Well,  strange 
though  it  may  seem,  yet  it  invariably  happened  on 
these  Saturday  nights,  when  curfew  time  came, 
Jeiniy  had  difficulty  in  finding  a  suitable  peat,  and 
just  as  she  was  almost  giving  up  the  task  in 
despair,  Jocky  chanced — maik  you,  "chanced" — to 
put  in  an  appearance;  the  peat  was  soon  found, for 
the  youth  was  a  good  judge  of  these  articles ;  the 
fire  was  speedily  "rested,"  and  Jocky  was — I  had 
almost  said,  soon  on  his  way  liome wards. 

There  is  no  doubt  this  sliould  h;ive  been  the  case, 
for  the  guidmjui  and  his  helpmeet  had  long  retired 
to  the  privacy  of  their  own  chamber,  but  somehow 
or  other  there  was  a  difficulty  in  sayhig  "good- 
night." No,  there  was  no  difficulty  in  saying 
"good-night,"  but  in  saying  the  very  last  "good- 
night." Othello  knew  something  of  this  when  he 
said,  "  One  more,  and  this  the  last." 

I  believe  that  the  Sillerton  youths  of  that 
day  had  some  idea  that  "good-night"  was  a  species 
of  adjective  that  had  the  ordinary,  perhaps  ex- 
traordinary, degrees  of  comparison.  It  went  with 
them,  apparently,  through  the  positive,  comparative 
and  superlative  degrees,  but  for  some  reason,  that 


80 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


hiis  never  been  fully  explained,  the  superlative 
"good-night"  seemed  the  hardest  nut  to  crack  in 
tlie  lover's  grammar.  Certainly  it  was  no  noun,  for 
it  never  seemed  to  be  declined,  and  though  those 
years  have  drifted  far  away,  yet  I  have  a  most 
vivid  recollection  of  the  almost  insurmountable 
diflQculties  that  were  sometimes  encountered  before 
the  hps  could  be  framed  to  utter  honestly— that  is, 
without  equivocation  or  mental  reserviition  of  any 
kind  whatever — that  last — that  very  last — "good- 
night." 

Sillerton  was  soon  still  as  the  grave.    As  Peter 
Pindar  says  somewhere  : — 

'*  Now  silence  in  the  country  stalk'd  the  dews, 
As  if  she  wore  a  flannel  pair  of. shoes, 
Lone  list'ning,  as  the  poets  well  remark, 
To  falling  mill-streams  and  the  mastiff's  bark  ; 
To  loves  of  wide-mouth'd  cats,  most  mournful  tales ; 
To  hoot  of  owls  amid  the  dusky  vales." 


%■■ 


It 


, 

i 

1 

t 

s", 

■1 

•li. 

The  last  candle  in  the  manse  had  passed  beneath 
the  extinguisher ;  the  last  shell  lamp  in  the  village 
had  died  out,  and  Louis  Alexander  Daff,  the  parish 
schoolmaster,  and  the  aspirant  for  ecclesiastical 
honors,  is  supposed  to  have  yielded  to  nature's 
sweet  restorer — sleep. 

And  now  comes  in  a  small  additional  portion  of 
the  story  as  it  was  told.    Well,  as  to  Louis,  we 


THE  DOMINIE. 


31 


shall  see.  Morning  came;  breakfast  came  also  to 
the  occupants  of  the  manse ;  but  Louis  Alexander 
came  not.  The  father  was  somewhat  troubled  at 
the  non-appearance  of  his  son,  and  a  maidservant 
was  detailed  to  summon  the  loiterer  to  partake  of 
that  substantial  Scotch  meal  that  in  old-world 
homes  was  the  meal  of  the  day,  bn^  no  Louis  was 
there ;  the  sheets  were  cold — the  bird  had  flown. 


in 

i  ' 


3^ 


scorns II  f(jlk-l  hk 


CIIAl^TKU   V. 


¥. 


THE    DOMINIE,    CON TIMKD. 

(lie  him  strong  drink  until  hu  wink, 

Tliat's  sinking  in  despaii' ; 
And  liquor  guid  to  fire  hi^i  bluid, 

That's  press'd  wi'  grief  and  care  : 
Tliere  let  him  bouse,  an'  deep  carouse, 

Wi'  bumpers  flowing  o'er. 
Till  he  forgets  his  loves  or  debts, 

An'  minds  his  grief,  no  more." 

Proverbs,  xxxi.,  G,7. 

In  the  last  chapter  it  was  said  tliatthe  ambilious 
Dominie  had  retired  to  his  own  room.  But,  alas! 
there  was  no  rest  there  for  him.  The  ights  of  next 
day's  duties  weighed  heavily  on  his  mind,  and 
instead  of  seeking  a  cessation  of  his  troubles  be- 
neath the  blankets,  Daff  slid  quietly  down  from 
his  bedroom  window,  and  sauntered  leisurely  along 
the  village  road. 

What  he  intended  to  do  or  where  he  intended  to 
go,  as  he  slipped  that  night  from  his  window,  I  am 
unable  to  say.  Probably  he  thought  that  a  quiet 
daunder  would  cool  his  blood,  and  predispose  him 


THE  DOMINIE,  (JOS ri.\ I ■  Kl). 


•  JO 


in 


to  tliat  !s]i:l'[)  tiiat  would  ^ivt!  liiiii  the  respite  of  at 
least  a  few  liours.  Al  hitj^tli,  liowever,  liis  steps 
Honiehow  Ini.u'd  in  tlu!  diieetion  of  l*araclise,  a 
species  of  Oriniliil  ^liideii  that  ^^nieed  one  of  the 
many  beaiUifiil  inea(h>\vs  of  Sillertoii,  and  where 
the  ciuef  f^ai'dener  was  a  erony  ai  tlie  schoolmaster. 

Datl'  was  wont  to  diop  in  (K.'casionaliy  theie,  and 
[^(ineraliy  before;  hiavin;^  tlu're  was  produced  a  drop 
of  good  Scotch  whisky,  just  for  auld  lang  syne,  in 
accordance  with  the  habit  and  custom  in  those 
days.  J^ut,  out  of  inspect  to  Mr.  Datt's  character, 
we  must  say  right  here  that  lie  was  universally 
known  as  a  strictly  temperate  man,  and  if  his  con- 
duct that  Satui<ljiy  night  was  not  precisely  what  it 
should  be,  yet,  if  fidl  he  did,  he  fell  like  better  folk 
ill  Pai'jidise,  and  tli;it  tl)e  weakness  which  on  that 
occasion  humbled  him  was  never  again,  even 
through  a  long  lifetime,  repeated. 

.Tohn  Tamson,  the  chief  gardener,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  what  the  folk  thereabouts  called  a 
drouthy  bodie.  He  was  given  t(»  what  were  known 
as  "spates,"  and  on  those  occasions,  we  fear,  neg- 
lected his  duties  as  the  chief  custodiiui  of  Paradise, 
and  incensed  accordingly  his  employer.  Sir  Archi- 
bald Ganuit,  the  old  laird.  Nay,  it  was  known 
that  on  one  occjision  Sir  Arcdiibald  had,  in  great 
wrath,  dismissed  his   old  servant,   and   had,  there 


I' 


i 


34 


S(  O  IT  IS  II  F< )  L  l\-  L  ORE. 


I      '1 


and  then,  ordered  him  to  look  out  for  another 
phice. 

The  souiewliat  noisy  sorrow  of  Tamson  made  a 
very  evident  impression  on  his  old  master,  who, 
perhaps,  in  some  degree  relenting,  demanded  if  he 
had  anything  to  say  in  his  own  behall  t  might 
stay  the  execution  of  the  sentence  that  had  been 
pronounced  against  him. 

One  peculiarity  of  Tamson  was  that  while  his 
limbs,  under  the  influence  of  innumerable  glasses 
of  whisky,  refused  to  be  in  any  way  directed  by  the 
will  of  their  owner,  in  fact  produced  what  might 
have  been  called  a  "  locomotive  strike,"  yet  the 
headpiece  seemed  to  soar  above  such  petty  weak- 
ness, and  tongue  and  brain  kept  clear  p  cool  as 
ever.  It  has  been  said  that  this  gift,  if  ..  ight  be 
so  called,  was  not  confined  to  John  Tamson,  but 
was  a  peculiarity  of  the  folks  of  Sillerton,  although 
it  has  been  said  also  to  be  connnon  to  most  Scotch- 
men, and  in  fact  it  has  been  not  only  vhispered  but 
even  printed,  too,  that  an  honest  Scotch  parson, 
after  a  whole  evening  spent  in  recuperating  an 
exhausted  frame,  had  been  heard  to  say  that  he  was 
"  michtily  refreshed,"  the  refreshment  indicated  on 
this  occasion  being  only  thirteen  tumblers  of  toddy. 

Well,  as  to  John  Tamson,  his  limbs  were  sairly 
out  of  order,  but  with  a  spade  in  one  hand,  and  a 


77/ f;  DOMINIE,  (JONTINUFA). 


35 


a 


good  grip  of  a  yew  tree,  under  which  the  hiird  and 
he  were  standing,  he  was  just  able  to  articuhite  a 
))lagiarizrd  vei'se  of  one  the  Psalms  of  David,  and 
[)arodized  too  at  tliat : — 

"  How  lovi'ly  is  thy  dwolUng-plaee, 
Sir  Ar-chi-bald,  to  me  ; 
riK>  gravelled  walks  of  Paradise, 
Their  like  I'll  never  see." 

Wlion  the  old  man  reached  the  word  "never"  ho 
became  deeply  moved.  Had  he  been  playing  on 
a  modern  organ  then,  he  would  probably  have 
touched  the  stop  marked  "Tremulante,"  but  as  his 
extemporized  music  was  entirely  vocal,  it  seemed 
as  if  he  would  nt  ver  stop,  and  when  he  reached  the 
final  "see,"  his  performance  degenerated  into  a  note 
that  was  not  precisely  a  whine,  and  yet  not  partic- 
ularly ditt'erent  from  a  genuine  howl.  The  words 
and  music,  however,  produced  a  softening  influence 
uj)on  the  good  laird;  his  savage  breast  was  soothed, 
and  with  a  hearty  roar  of  laughter,  John  Tamson's 
sentence  was  revoked,  and  he  was  relegated  once 
more  to  delve  about  the  gravelled  walks  of  Para- 
dise. Such  was  Louis  Alexander  Dalf's  host  on 
that  memorable  Siiturday  night. 

The  schoolmaster's  story  was  soon  told.  The 
old-fashinnerl  bine  bottle  duly  made  its  appearance. 
A   few   glasses    of   the   generous,    soothing   liquor 


i     i 
i     '1 


If 


111.' 


.SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


found  its  way  to  the  very  heart  of  the  troubled 
Dominie,  till,  alas!  the  truth  must  be  confessed, 
poor  Daff  was  overtaken,  and  some  time  amongst 
the  sma'  hours  he  fell  into  a  profound  sleep.  At 
the  time  good  old  Daff  was  filling  whiit  should 
have  been  that  day  his  son's  place  in  the  pulpit  of 
Sillerton,  that  son  was  still  slumbering  peacefully 
on  the  bed  of  John  Tamson,  in  Paradise,  for — 

"  Partly  vvi'  fear  he  was  o'erconie, 
And  partly  he  was  drimk, 

Tliat  r.ighi." 

A  gentle  whisper  reached  the  manse,  during  the 
afternoon,  of  the  whereabouts  of  Louis  Alexander, 
and  as  the  gloamin'  deepened  into  the  darkness  of 
a  quiet  Sunday  sunnner  evening,  the  minister's  gig 
deposited  near  the  manse  door  the  considerably 
shaken-up  person  of  the  still  obfuscated  school- 
master. (Quietly  he  stole  away  to  his  own  room 
without  obtruding  his  company  upon  his  irate 
father.  Sleep  speedily  came  to  restore  iin  equi- 
librium that  had  been  sadly  disturbed  amidst  the 
groves  of  Paradise,  and  as  the  su)i  sent  his  first 
rays  over  the  parish  of  Sillerton,  and  lighted  up 
the  heath-clad  face  of  the  distant  Bennachie,  the 
would-be  preacher  awoke  to  commence  his  duties 
of  the  week — awoke  perhaps  a  sadder,  but  certainly 
a  wiser  man. 


THE  DOMINIE  MOUNTED 


87 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE    DOMINIE    MOUXTED. 


So  stooping  down,  as  needs  he  must 

'vVho  cannot  sit  iipriglit. 

He  grasp'd  the  mane  with  both  his  hands, 

And  eke  with  all  his  might. 

— '^  John  Gilpin.** 

One  other  tale  of  the  old  Dominie  that  never  failed 
to  awaken  the  merriment  of  the  listeners  was  con- 
nected with  his  horsemanship,  which,  very  evidently, 
was  not  of  a  remarkably  high  order.  It  was  just 
possible  though  that  the  schoolmaster  had  but  few 
opportunities  of  studying  the  noble  art  of  eques- 
trianism. Occasionally,  like  some  eccentric  comet, 
the  great  and  famous  Ord  appeared  on  the  Sillerton 
horizon,  to  show  off  his  splendid  bareback  riding  and 
feats  of  horsemanship;  yet  only  a  few  boys  at- 
tempted to  imitate  him,  and  of  all  men  in  the  world 
Louis  Alexander  would  have  been  the  last  to  follow 
the  example. 

It  was  also  true  that  the  eccentric  Earl  of  Kintore 
occasionally  rode  through  the  village  with  his  hunte- 


rs 
,  If. 


k 


i  (i 


\ 


11  If 

Hi   i'' 


ill    i 


38 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-L OR E. 


men  and  hounds,  and  there  were  shown  places  where 
he  had  made  tremendous  leaps  in  pursuit  of  rey- 
nard,  but  these  saltations  the  douce  dominie  would 
scarcely  have  attempted  had  even  Tam  o'  Shanter's 
carlin  been  behind  him. 

Bold  Buffalo  Bill  was  then  a  name  unknown,  and 
cowboys  liad  not  as  yet  been  evolved  from  the  quiet 
Scotch  herd  laddie,  nor,  in  consequence,  liad  their 
f(^ats  on  Mexican  plugs  or  bucking  mustangs  been 
exhibited  in  all  their  glory  to  awaken  the  admira- 
tion or  excite  tlie  rivalry  of  tlie  Britisli  equestrian. 

Without  nuich  schooling  in  the  eciuinal  mysteries, 
therefore,  Daff  took  kindly  to  a  horse  probably  in 
this  way.  During  his  more  youthful  days,  when 
juvenile  ambition  fills  the  human  heart  with  the 
intense  desire  of  doing  something  that  might  call 
down  the  praises  of  our  fellow-men,  he  might  have 
pleaded  guilty  to  the  soft  impeachment.  IMany  men 
at  that  age  become  imbued  with  martial  ardor ;  feel 
that  there  is  that  in  them  that  might  some  day  con- 
vert them  into  Napoleons  or  Wellingtons ;  sigh  for 
a  life  of  glory,  and  leaving  kirk,  or  school,  or  farm 
behind,  join  the  ranks  of  those  who  seek  the  "  bub- 
ble reputation  at  the  eaiuion's  r.iouth."  Well,  Louis 
was  not  one  of  those. 

Another  man  is  fired  by  tales  of  travel  and  advent- 
ure by  sea  and  land,  and  the  mantle  of  Mungo  Park 


THE  DOMINIE  MOUNTED. 


tails  oil  his  shoulders,  and  the  next  thin.c^  we  hear 
of  him  is  he  is  hunting- Vniti'alowitii  I>liickf(;et  Indians 
on  tlio  western  prairies  of  America,  or  listening  to 
an  original  negro  melody  at  tiie  sources  of  the  Nile. 

Ah  I  no;  Louis'  affections  did  not  incline  in  that 
direction.  In  fact,  to  come  to  the  point,  his  love  of 
discovery  or  adventure  did  not  spur  liim  on  far  to 
the  eastward  or  \vestward  of  the  boundary  line 
of  the  parish  of  Sillerton.  Tlie  andjition  of  Datf, 
such  as  it  was,  was  circumscribed.  Tliat  ambition, 
thougli  deferred  for  several  years,  was  to  possess  a 
horse,  and  to  exhibit  his  figure  upon  that  quadruped's 
back  every  afternoon  as  far  as  tlie  farm  of  Scrape- 
hard,  and  back  again  to  the  schoolhouse  of  Siller- 
ton. 

This  he  had  done  for  over  a  year,  week  in  and 
week  out,  wind  and  rain  (there  was  no  tide  in  Siller- 
ton, barring  a  few  holiday  tides  that  w^ere  still  re- 
membered)— wind  and  rain  we  said  permitting,  for 
no  man  was  more  careful  of  his  health  than  the 
schoolmaster  of  Sillerton.  It  was  observed,  how- 
ever, that  he  dominie  never  once  during  this  time 
had  brought  his  equestrian  exercises  to  a  pace  faster 
than  an  ordinary  walk.  The  trot,  the  canter,  and 
the  gallop  were  utterly  ignored,  and  had  the  feelings 
of  man  and  beast  been  subjected  to  the  operations 
of  a  mind-reader,  it  might  have  been  hard  to  decide, 


.'<! 


40 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


I    •■• 


IH 


t  :      'I 
i 


1 


to  which  the  slow,  tranquil  pace  was  the  more 
pleasing. 

But  hereby  hangs  a  tale.  Doctor  Low,  the  village 
medical  practitioner,  had  exercised  his  profession 
for  some  time  in  the  district,  for  a  doctor's  field  of 
practice  in  those  days  extended  frequently  over 
several  parishes,  and  was  bounded  only  by  his  repu- 
tation, and  the  ability  of  his  nag  to  carry  him  over 
the  long  rides  that  he  was  often  required  to  under- 
take. Low  was,  without  question,  a  harum-scarum, 
a  reckless  horseman,  and,  for  some  reason  unex- 
plained, no  admirer  of  the  douce  schoolmaster. 

In  Low's  mind  a  suspicion  had  arisen  why  Daff' s 
equestrian  exercises  had  never  exceeded  the  simplest 
movement,  and  overtaking  him  one  day,  just  as  lie 
had  turned  his  horse's  head  homeward,  the  mad  doc- 
tor at  once  proceeded  to  test  the  accuracy  of  his  sus- 
picions. Slipping  up  quietly,  on  his  nag,  behind  the 
unsuspecting  Dominie,  the  doctor  dealt  Dobbin  a 
terrible  cut  with  his  whip  over  the  hind-quarters. 
The  effect  was  electrical.  Unused  to  such  treat- 
ment, the  astonished  brute  threw  his  hind  heels  in 
the  air,  and  at  a  thundering  gallop  made  for  the 
village  as  if  something  worse  than  a  nest  of  hornets 
was  behind  him. 

That  whip-cut  also  produced  a  very  extraordinary 
effect  upon  the  horseman.    His  seat  was  naturally 


^<./ 
^^^>' 


THE  DOMINIE  MOUNTED. 


41 


anything  but  a  good  one,  even  at  his  usual  pace,  but 
when,  without  any  prehniinaries,  the  quiet,  sedate 
walk  became  a  terrific,  thundering  gallop,  that  seat 
was  nowhere,  or  rather  the  seat  was  everywhere, 
now  up  about  a  foot  and  a  half  above  the  snorting 
horse,  now  bumped  with  the  force  of  a  sledge-ham- 
mer against  the  crupper  of  his  saddle,  and  now  and 
again  ciianging  sides,  till  the  poor  pedagogue  s»»enied 
as  if  describing  circles  round  a  movable  centre,  that 
centre  being  somewhere  along  the  spinal  cord  of  his 
bounding  steed. 

Louis  Alexander's  mind,  however,  never  lost  en- 
tirely its  e(piilibrium  no  matter  how  much  th:it  of 
his  body  was  disturlu'd.  Danger  he  certainly  ielt;, 
but  self-presei"vation  was  an  inherent  principle  of 
his  nature,  and  doing  just  what  he  was  only  able 
to  do,  and  in  this  following  the  commendable  ex- 
ample of  the  "  Train-band  captain  of  famous  London 
Town,"  under  somewhat  similar  circumstances,  he 
leant  forward  upo.i  his  horse's  neck,  left  the  llowing 
reins  to  the  guiding  hand  of  chance,  if  to  nothing 
better,  and,  with  hands  desperately  entwined 
amongst  the  exuberant  tresses  of  Dobbin's  mane, 
bade  fair  at  first  to  leave  his  tormentor  behind  him. 
But,  alas !  such  was  not  to  be ;  the  village  doctor 
was  better  mounted  than  the  parish  Dominie ;  the 
one  nag  was  a  fiery  steed,  accustomed  to  respond  to 


k!  i"  il 


m 
\i 


m 


42 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE, 


i  ! 


V,  ; 

'r    ' 

I    1. 

\]   'j 

'3  ! 

'.    1: 

■  ■:-       '■ 
*1      ' 

l  ;i!l 


his  rider's  importunities,  while  poor  Dobbin,  even 
had  all  other  tilings  been  equal,  was  sadly  handi- 
capped, and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  both  riders'  en- 
tered the  astonished  village,  not  exactly  neck  and 
neck,  but  T)aff  leading  by  a  length. 

Tiie  whole  village — man,  woman,  and  child  (there 
were  no  :anines  in  Sillerton) — turned  out  to  see 
what  the  noise  meant,  for  the  triumphant  medico 
never  missed  a  thwack  of  his  whip,  nor  a  tally-ho  of 
his  tongue,  till  tlie  sair-forfoughten  Dominie  found 
shelter  within  his  own  gates. 

There  was  not  much  law  then  in  Sillerton ;  that 
was  a  luxury  for  the  great  ones  of  the  earth;  and 
actions  for  assault  and  battery  were  there  utterly 
unknown. 

KSillerlon,  in  fact,  in  this  proved  that  'listory  often 
repeats  itself,  for  an  ancient  heathen  poet  says  in 
words  that,  freely  translated  into  English,  would 
give  the  stanza  as  under — 

•'  By  lovo  of  ri;;?ht,  and  native  justice  led, 
In  strai.';ht  paths  of  equity  they  tread  ; 
Nor  know  the  b;ir,  nor  fear  the  judge's  frown, 
UnpractisM  in  the  wrangHngs  of  the  gcwn." 

The  sufferer  had  simply  to  grin  and  bear,  and  the 

poor  schoolmaster,  on  account  of  the  many  bruises 

ustahied  by  his  lower  limbs,  was  said  to  have  worr 

something  resembling  a  kilt  for  ten  days  thereafter, 


IS.  ;; 


■Itiil 


THE  DOMINIE  MOUNTED. 


48 


till  the  skin  wounds  were  gradually  and  effectually 
healed,  though  some  mental  and  even  physical  scars 
may  have  doubtless  remained. 

'J'he  village  worthies  delighted  to  tell  this  tale 
wiion  rent-day  and  cracks  and  ale  came  round ;  and 
wicked  Low,  it  was  believed,  never  repented  of  what 
he  had  done,  and  continued,  for  many  a  year  after- 
wards, to  crack  his  whip  and  his  jokes  merrily  as 
ever. 

A  change,  however,  had  coine  over  the  spirit  of 
his  victim's  dream  ;  his  ambition,  if  ambition  it 
was,  had  to  find  vent  in  some  other  and  safer 
channel;  and  the  saddle  and  spurs,  like  the  war- 
rior's disused  weapons,  thereafter  hung  idly  in  the 
hall  of  the  schoolhouse.  Louis  Alexander  Daff 
never  mounted  steed  again. 


I 


V 


.  m 


^■•■, 


If  s  l^ 


I  > 


>i! 


1         i 


i         < 

1:    ;i 


li 


!      '■. 


II 


44 


aCOTTlSU  FOLK-LOBE, 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  DISSOLVIXa  VIEW. 

*'  The  knights  are  dust ;  their  swords  are  rust ; 
Their  souls  are  with  the  saints  we  trust." 

It  appears  to  the  author  of  this  shnple  yet  au- 
thentic narrative  as  if  he  had  determined  in  his  own 
mind  to  write  nothing  about  tlie  folks  of  Sillerton 
but  what  might  excite  only  our  risible  faculties. 
Now,  this  charge,  if  charge  it  is,  we  are  inclined  to 
explain,  if  not  indeed  to  deny.  There  might  have 
been,  and  there  doitbtless  were,  many  things  that 
happened  in  the  village  and  its  surroundings  in 
those  boyhood  days  of  ours  that  were  well  calculated 
to  stir  our  better  nature  to  its  profoundest  depths ; 
there  were  tragedies  enacted  there  that  perhaps 
sent  the  dagger  of  sorrow  as  straight  to  the  heart 
as  when  the  guileless  Desdemona  died  beneath  the 
hand  of  the  loving  but  jealous  Moor ;  there  were 
pages  of  remorse  written  there  on  the  stricken  soul 
that  no  pen  shall  ever  chronicle ;  tears  shed  that 
were  felt  only  by  the  cheeks  over  which  they  flowed ; 


A  DISSOLVIXG  VIEn\ 


45 


and  blighted  hopes  there  were,  that  death,  in 
summer's  prime,  might  only  faintly  indieate;  but 
in  life  the  silent  lips  kept  their  secret  well,  and 
now  the  luimble,  moss-grown  tombstone  tells  no 
tales. 

Some  things  of  a  saddened  character  certainly 
happened  occasionally  in  Sillerton,  and  were  per- 
haps known  and  felt  by  us  also ;  but  the  tear  and 
sigh  were  soon  forgotten  by  the  young,  for  to  tliem 
the  clouds  return  not  after  the  rain;  it  was  the 
laughter  of  the  merry  that  still  and  ever  kept  ring- 
hig  in  our  ears.  And  so,  when  much  of  the  grave 
and  sad  lias  been  washed  away  from  memory  by 
the  waves  of  time,  the  merry  things  that  happened, 
and  the  quaint  and  jocular  stories  that  were  told, 
made  deeper  tracks  in  our  memories,  and  in  conse- 
quence yet  linger  round  us  still,  and  rise  up  before 
us  as  if  the  wand  of  some  mighty  magician  had 
called  them  all  back  to  new-born  life  and  action. 

Well,  there  is  nothing  particularly  merry  before 
us  at  the  present  moment ;  there  may,  however,  be 
something  pleasant  to  contemplate,  and  hence  en- 
joyable. Louis  Alexander  Daff — not  he  of  youthful 
days  nor  he  of  robust  manhood,  but  Daff  the  now 
superaniuiated  schoolmaster  of  Sillerton,  still  claims 
a  few  pages  of  notice  ere  he  pass  by  to  mingle  with 
the  shadows  of  the  past. 


m 


Pi 


I  ■;] 


l>l 


«l; 


II 


b.  ' 
's  * 

if' 

11^ :;  ^i 


4w 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


t 


I  can  now  see  before  me  that  old  iiian,  of  whom  I 
have  Jilready  siiid  so  much,  weaned  of  tlie  frivoUties 
of  youth,  few  as  they  were,  and  descending  into  the 
vale  of  years,  surrounded  by  the  respect  of  his 
neighbors,  and  bearing  along  with  him  the  hallowed 
privileges  and  dignities  of  age.  He  still  enjoys  his 
outing,  but  the  saddle  has  long  given  jilace  to  the 
more  sober  social  gig;  Dobbin,  the  third  in  succes- 
sion of  that  name,  gray  like  his  master,  walks  along  in 
harness,  and  Mrs.  Daff,  kindly  and  homely  in  all  her 
ways,  is  always  beside  her  loving  lord  as  lie  drives 
— save  the  mark ! — back  and  foilh  between  the 
eighteenth  milestone  and  the  schoolhouse  of  Siller- 
ton. 

Just  at  this  point  in  my  narrative,  however* 
candor  compels  me  to  say  something  of  my  ov/n  con- 
nection with  the  Dominie's  stable  arrangements,  ;nid 
should  the  laugh  be  turned  against  me,  as  it  certainly 
has  every  chance  of  being,  it  must  at  least  be  borne 
in  mind  that  a  barefooted  callant  on  horseback  is 
very  apt  to  ride  pretty  much  towards  the  same  des- 
tination which  beggars  under  similar  conditions  are 
said  to  reach.  It  might  help  also  to  break  my  own 
fall  considerably  to  remind  the  reader  that  "  he 
rides  siccar  that  never  faas." 

It  may  be  as  well  also  to  mention  that  Daff  kept 
no  man  or  boy  to  look  after  outside  affairs.    A  few 


v& 


A  DISSOLVING  VIEW. 


4T 


days  of  a  handy  laborer  sufficed  to  plant  the  kail 
and  potatoes  in  spring,  and  to  house  thoni  wlien 
autumn  came.  In  fact  the  servant  girl  was  n  maid 
of  all  work ;  looked  pretty  much  after  the  iiMt,^  and 
faithfully  bestowed  upon  the  animal  tlie  daily 
allowance  of  oats  and  hay  that  Louis  Alexander 
gave.  Beyond,  however,  the  feeding,  Kirsty  did 
no  more,  and  to  her  the  mysteries  of  curry-comb 
and  brush  were  absolutely  unknown.  The  truth 
was  that  had  not  Daft"  been  equal  to  the  occasion, 
a  modern  Hercules  would  have  speedily  been  re- 
quired to  clean  the  Dominie's  stable.  But  to  fond 
off  such  a  dilemma,  Datf,  cunning  old  rogue  that  he 
was,  had  succeeded  in  associating  the  brushing  of 
Dobbin  with  the  highest  honors. 

Daily  for  a  few  minutes  the  old  man  entered  the 
schoolroom  to  exchange  greetings  with  his  assistant, 
and  to  inquire  particularly  how  the  Latinists  were 
getting  on.  After  exhortuig  the  latter  to  study  well 
and  faithfully  the  ludiments,  adding  very  emphati- 
cally on  every  occasion,  "The  rudiments  are  the 
very  soul  of  the  language,"  he  detailed  two  of  our 
number— Latinists,  always  Latinists — to  brush  up 
Dobbin  fo,  Jio  afternoon's  drive.  T  had  often  been 
one  of  the  two  detailed  for  fatigue  duty,  if  fatigue  it 
could  be  called,  for  the  loose  hairs  on  Dobbin  were 
more  likely  to  be  rubbed  off  by  our  corduroy  breeches 


',ii 


i(\ 


!l 


-f 

Vli  i 


:( 


a 


t 


i 


' 


• 


l! 


A^ 


I 


48 


scorns II  folk-lore. 


than  by  tho  regulation  curry-comb.  The  fact  was 
that  after  a  very  suiall  amount  of  rubbing  down  we 
were  accustomed  to  take  tiie  old  horse  out  of  the 
stable,  and  with  one  boy  on  his  back  and  another  in 
the  rear  armed  with  a  good  whip,  we  liad  lively 
times  of  it,  and  doubtless  refreshed  our  own  memo- 
ries of  a  former  Dobbin's  youthful  gallop,  with  mad 
Doctor  Low  behind  him.  The  pig,  however,  goes 
to  the  well  till  one  day,  and  so  with  me  and  my 
stolen  rides. 

My  turn  had  now  come,  for  my  comrade  was 
down,  and  I  was  "up."  "  Boots  and  saddles"  had 
sounded,  or  in  this  case  rather  "Boots  and  no  sad- 
dles," and  with  two  or  three  smart  cuts  received 
from  the  whip,  Dobbin  seemed  as  if  he  would  break 
the  record.  A  shower  had,  however,  rendered  the 
race-course  dangen  isly  slippery,  and  just  as  my 
gallant  steed  turned  the  corner  of  the  hen-house — 
our  winning  post — man  and  horse  came  heavily  to 
the  ground.  No  doubt  a  feeling  of  fear  crossed  my 
mind  at  that  supreme  moment,  not  knowing  ex- 
actly what  the  consequences  of  the  tumble  might 
be. 

Dr.  Livingstone,  the  great  African  missir'iarj  .i;id 
explorer,  describes  his  sensations  ir  ne  operat- 

ing teeth  of  an  angry  lion,  and  conci     es,  from  per- 
sonal  experience,  that  the  rat  in  the  clutcl  ;s  of  his 


A  DlSSOLViya  VIEW. 


40 


natural  enemy  receives  a  siuUlen  slio(;k  to  liis  nerv- 
ous system  that  ])anishes  both  fear  and  suffering, 
and  renders  deatli  almost,  if  not  altogether,  painless. 
This  is  doubtless  true,  but  true  it  is  also  that  a 
greater  danger  seems  to  entirely  supersede  a  lesser 
one.  And  so  in  my  case.  In  the  act  1  falling  I 
was  sensible  of  the  imminent  danger  to  life  and 
limb,  but  jusl  then  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  face  of 
tlie  thun(lerstrui;k  and  irate  old  man  glaring  omi- 
nously at  me  over  tlie  school  fence. 

For  once  in  my  life  I  played  fox  and  lay  still. 
Tlie  old  horse,  with  sundry  wriggles  and  struggles 
and  groans,  found  liis  legs  again,  but  I  deemed  it 
more  expedient  not  to  find  mine.  Instantaneously 
the  wrath  of  old  Daff  disappeared  in  the  stronger 
feeling  of  fear  lest  one  of  his  beloved  Latinists  had 
been  rendered  /tors  de  combat^  and  with  kindly 
hands  I  was  lifted  up.  My  ante-mortem  statement 
was  at  once  taken.  It  was  found,  or  at  least  sur- 
mised, that  I  was  not  mortally  wounded.  No  bones 
were  broken,  so  far  at  least  as  Daffs  very  limited 
anatomical  knowledge  might  venture  on  an  opinion. 
But,  from  the  dreadful  lim[)  that  at  once  developed, 
it  was  plain  that  I  must  be  hnit  somewhere.  A  few 
kindly  words,  however,  brought  back  the  color  to 
my  cheek,  and  as  I  expressed  an  ability  and  wish  to 
return  at  once  to  my  place  among  the  Latinists,  the 
4 


jy  :. 


1 


ill 


^-i: 


<  t. 


•J 


il 


U 


m 


mmaessfwoBmssssxi 


i^s^smai^*' 


f    '  11 


i 

1  1 

v< 

?. 

1 

J , 

1 

^1 

\ 

n 

1} 

•1         \ 

fi 

:| 

'} 

i 

'■;          ' 

U 

'   t 

.■  1 

1, 

^},. 

1 

50 


SCOITLSII  FOLK-LOUE. 


fears  of  the  Dominie  Jit  once  Viinislied,  and  with  a 
little  assistance  I  was  soon  in  the  schoolroom  and  at 
work  again.  I  received  no  scolding  whatever,  and 
my  comrade,  who  was  Q\^'iiY\y  paHiaps  cruninis,  or 
"airt  and  pairt"  as  we  express  it  in  Scotch,  got  off 
as  well.  There  were  sly  looks  as  we  botli  sat  down 
in  our  places  in  the  schoolroom  to  scan  a  few  lines 
in  Virgil,  the  losson  for  the  afternoon,  und  the 
assistant  teacher,  who  somehow,  probably  from 
information  received  from  Daft'  himself,  seemed  to 
take  in  the  situation,  could  not  resist  the  tempta- 
tion of  quizzing  us  by  showing  the  onomatopoetic 
beauties  of  the  very  appropriate  line,  Quadnqyed- 
ante  putrem  nouitn.  quaiU  uiifjula  vampiun. 

Personal!}  we  did  not  enjoy  the  joke.  Sore 
bones,  aw^X  bruised  muscles,  and  the  abrasion  f  a 
few  square  inches  of  cuticle  on  one's  vdrson  are  not 
generally  accom[)anied  by  very  marked  demonstra- 
tions of  hilarity  :  and  then,  over  and  above  all  this, 
we  had  mental  wounds  as  well  to  endure  ;  we  knew 
and  felt  that  we  had  lost  our  spurs ;  curry  combs 
and  stolen  gallops  were  no  more  for  us ;  we  were 
reduced  to  the  rank  of  infantry  soldiers,  and  like 
good  old  Daft'  himself  in  years  gone  by,  dismounted 
for  another  reason  forever — we  liad  liad  our  last 
ride  on  Dobbin.  It  was  more,  however,  to  depict 
the  kindlier  feelings  of  the  village  Dominie  that  this 


■.^W^MWWMI'ateWgfc*- 


A  DISSOLVING  VIEW, 


61 


chapter  was  begun  than  to  immortalize  my  own 
exploits,  may  I  not  simply  say  failures  ?  Gladly  I 
draw  a  veil  over  this  youthful  escapade,  and  direct 
your  eyes  to  a  more  pleasing  spectacle. 

Come,  then,  and  let  us  take  our  place  beside  the 
piinip  that  stands  exactly  in  the  middle  of  the 
tree-shaded  square.  The  original  founder  of  Siller- 
ton  had  evidently  been  a  mathematician,  and,  with 
a  colossal  pair  of  compasses  in  his  hand,  stuck  one 
point  down  in  the  centre,  saying,  "  Here  is  the  well," 
and  with  a  radius  of  a  considerable  number  of 
yards,  swung  the  other  leg  around  till  the  circle 
was  complete. 

Round  that  circumference  a  hedge  of  hawthorn 
and  beech  was  planted,  while  elm  and  ash  trees 
filled  tlie  inside  of  the  circle.  One  bisecting  line 
passed  through  this,  terminating  towards  one  end 
in  the  door  of  the  inn,  and  towards  the  other  in  the 
great  door  of  the  church,  and  affording  thus  on 
either  side  an  easy  access  to  the  water  supply  for 
the  villagers. 

Hound  this  circle  ran  a  well-kept  road,  and 
completing  it  there  were  four  rows  of  houses  form- 
ing a  rectangle  rather  than  an  exact  square.  The 
trees  rose  to  a  considerable  height,  and  opposite  to  Die 
Rchoolhouse  a  mighty  elm  threw  out  a  giant  mm  as 
if  to  exchange  courtesies  witii  the  oid  schoohuiister. 


!  K 


'I 


% 


':% 


^K 


-r; 


r\ 


i  :l 


il! 


52 


scorrisii  folk-lore. 


The  steeple  clcKik  has  just  struck  nine,  but 
scarcely  has  the  last  stroke  sounded  when  a  window 
opens;  a  night-capped  head  looks  out;  a  khidly 
hand  strews  an  abundance  of  crumbs  upon  the 
window-sill;  a  low  whistle  is  heard,  and  iu  an 
instant  the  hoary  elm  is  alive  with  birds.  Iloderick 
Dim's  whistle  brought  stalwart  warriors  innumer- 
able from  rock  and  tree  and  bracken  bush,  but  Datt's 
quiet  signal  summons  countless  songsters,  appar- 
ently from  earth  and  heaven.  The  beautiful  gold- 
finch is  there;  the  more  sombre  chaflflnch;  the 
brilliant  bullfinch ;  the  homely  but  songful  siskin ; 
while  a  whole  army  at  least  of  robin  redbreasts 
assert  their  claim  to  human  sympathy — a  claim 
also  never  disputed;  while  a  considerable  colony  of 
overbearing,  pugnacious,  and  ubiquitous  sparrows 
all  haste  into  that  window-sill  to  share  in  a  break- 
fast that,  Saturday  and  Sunday,  summer  and  win- 
ter, is  never  forgotten. 

Later  on  in  the  day,  as  the  old  man  sits  in  the 
playground  upon  his  easy-chair,  we  bring  our  pets 
to  receive  his  praise,  and  a  more  tiingible  acknowl- 
edgment at  the  same  time,  and  also  to  hear  his  oft- 
repeated  admonition,  "  Be  kind,  boys,  to  the  lower 
animals." 

We  would  almost  wish  to  stop  here,  but  no ;  the 
whole  truth  must  needs  be  told,  and  there  are  still 


A  DISSOLVING  VIEW. 


in  Sillerton  men  who  as  boys  stood  on  that  play- 
ground beside  the  schoohnaster,  us  lie  dispensed  his 
praise  and  his  pence  to  those  who  had  treated  iiis 
pets  with  kindness,  and  who  will  perhaps  recollect 
that  we  did  not  always  act  on  the  square  with  the 
old  man. 

Poor  Daff's  eyesight  had  got  dim,  and  his  afifec- 
tion  for  birds  and  beasts  was  infinitely  stronger  than 
his  memoiy.  And  did  we  not  play  upon  these 
frailties  ?  Did  not  the  jackdaw,  that,  five  minutes 
ago  belonged  to  Jack,  become  in  an  instant  the 
l>roperty  of  Gill,  and  that,  too,  by  a  sleight  of  hand 
that  might  have  done  credit  to  the  "Great  Wizard 
of  the  North  "  ;  and  had  we  not  frequently  to  hustle 
round  to  find  new  recruits  for  pay-day  parade  to 
supply  the  places  of  those  who  had  all  died  in  the 
meantime?  This  was  very  naughty  on  our  part, 
but  at  all  events,  no  matter  our  merits  or  demerits, 
Louis  Alexander  tried,  in  good  faith,  by  rewards,  to 
stimulato  the  young  folks  to  exercise  forbearance 
and  kindliness  towards  the  lower  animals,  and  even 
if  only  too  often  his  method  of  inculcating  kind- 
ness was  abused,  yet  still  it  ceased  not  to  bear 
fruit. 

ITow  often  have  we  been  Indebted  to  little  inci- 
dents that  happened  to  us  in  childhood  for  some  of 
those  tastes  that  thereafter  grew  with  our  growth 


I 


1'* 


n 


B 

!   Hi 


«i 


'Pi 


m 


i\ 


•r 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


II  I 


until  they  influenced  our  whole  lives,  and  sometimes 
we  could  sciii'cely  tell  how  they  originated  with  us  ! 
Personally  I  owe  much  to  the  simple  alphabet  of 
natural  history  that  the  old  teacher  taught  me  on 
the  playground  of  Sillerton. 

On  the  playgreen  of  Sillerton  there  was  little 
taught  of  the  natural  history  of  science,  but  there 
was  much  of  that  natural  history  with  which  the 
kindlier  feelings  of  the  heart  have  to  do.  We 
certainly  learned  but  little  there  of  the  great  classes 
into  which  the  animal  kingdom  was  divided;  orders, 
families,  genera,  species,  and  varieties  were  not 
household  words  with  the  kindly  schoolmaster, 
but  if  watching  a  ruby-throated  humming  bird  sip- 
ping its  nectar  and  drawing  its  other  supplies  from 
the  storehouse  of  a  flower,  or  listening  to  the  newly- 
arrived  Canadian  rossignol  pouring  forth  its  sweet 
song,  long  ere  the  March  winds  had  ceased  to  blow 
— if  these  are  pleasures  that  T  have  been  privileged 
to  enjoy,  how  much  of  that  enjoyment  owed  its  very 
existence  to  the  suggestive  example  of  the  kind 
Dominie;  and  the  oft-repeated  maxim,  spoken  on 
the  schoolgreen  of  Sillerton,  so  many  long  years  ago, 
still  whispers  in  my  ear,  even  amidst  the  solitudes 
of  the  primeval  forest,  "  Boys,  be  kind  to  the  lower 
animals."  We  owe  this  tribute,  and  we  pay  it  wih- 
ingly,  to  the  memory  of  the  kind  old  man. 


A  DISSOLVING  VIEW. 


55 


The  end  came  calmly  as  the  quiet  of  a  summer 
oloiuuing.  The  birds,  as  their  wont  was,  flocked  to 
tlie  unopened  window,  but  no  breakfast  awaited 
them  that  morning:;  the  hands  that  had  long  dis- 
l»ensed  the  crumbs  to  those  that  neither  sow  nor  reap 
were  folded  in  rest;  the  heart  that  had  so  often  sent 
f.>rth  its  warm  sympathies  to  the  lower  formations 
of  the  Creator's  band  was  cold  and  still ;  there  was 
indeed  a  vacancy  not  only  in  the  school  of  Sillerton, 
but  in  its  village  square  as  well ;  the  fluttering  and 
twittering  of  the  little  winged  orphans  around  the 
unopened  schoolhouse  window,  and  the  absence  of 
the  well-known  white  nightcap,  were  the  first  in- 
timation to  the  villagers  that  their  kindly  neighbor 
would  never  again  feed  and  clothe  the  poor,  nor 
scatter  crumbs  to  the  little  songsters  that  were  still 
awaiting  him  at  the  draped  window ;  and  so(m  all 
that  was  mortal  of  the  Rev.  Louis  Alexander  Daft' 
was  laid  to  rest  beside  his  kindred  dust  in  the  old 
churchyard. 

After  the  funeral,  a  few  friends  gathered  in  the 
schoolhouse,  as  was  the  custom,  to  hear  the  will 
read.  Daff  had  been  a  careful  man,  and  left  behind 
him  a  considerable  amount  of  worldly  wealth.  Due 
provision  was  therefore  made  for  the  sorrowing 
widow;  and,  true  to  his  character,  amongst  the 
legacies  there  was  a  weekly  allowance  set  apart  for 


^ 


I 


'1 


n 


1    if 

il 

\  '  ' 

1 

jyilfl 

m 


SCOTTISH  FOLKLORE. 


!'  1 


'.    ,.j- 


n  I 


Dobbin,  and  an  annual  dole  set  aside  also  for  the 
board  of  a  favorite  cock,  these  sums  to  be  paid  during 
the  natural  term  of  their  lives. 

Strange  to  say,  twenty  years  thereafter  old  Dobbin 
was  still  to  be  seen  on  the  braes  of  Fetternear,  and 
that  identical  cock  was  still  crowing  then,  as  if,  like 
the  eagles,  he  had  renewed  his  age. 

Did  a  superabundance  of  kindly  care  keep  the 
legatees  in  life?  Did  the  caretaker  of  these  two 
happy  orphans  discover  and  administer  to  his  wards 
some  elixir  of  life  that  enabled  them  to  enjoy  the 
bounty  of  their  departed  master  long  after  the  period 
usually  allotted  to  the  eiiuine  or  tlie  gallinaceous 
animals;  or  was  it  possible,  as  some  miserable 
misanthropes  hinted,  that  old  Dobbin  and  his  ancient 
comrade  had  long  ago  ceased  to  neigh  and  crow, 
but  that  fit  representatives  had  been  found  to  enjoy 
that  bounty  that  the  village  schoolmaster  bestowetl 
upon  at  least  two  of  the  lower  animals  in  his  last 
will  and  testament? 

With  the  old  squire  we  might  say,  "  Much  might 
be  said  on  both  sides." 


n  f 


"  He  prayeth  best  who  loveth  best 
All  things  both  great  and  small ; 
For  the  dear  Gkxi  who  loveth  us, 
He  made  and  loveth  all." 


TIIK  STIC  KIT  LA  WYER. 


57 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THE    STKKIT  LAWYER. 

The  poor  inliabitant  boloNV 

"Was  quick  to  Icuni  :uul  wise  to  know, 

And  keenly  feltrlu^  fiien<llv  [(low 

And  softer  tlaDU'  ; 
Btit  thoughtless  lollies  laid  him  low, 

And  .stain'd  his  name. 

TJw  BiO'd's  Emtauii. 

J.  A 

We  have  looked  iiiio  the  hist  will  and  testniiient 
of  Louis  Alexander  Daft",  wiiose  tombstone  stil! 
adorns  the  (|niet  churchyard  of  Sillerton  ;  but  vw 
''we  draw  the  cni'tain  down,"  we  would  fain  point 
out  one  other  scene  in  this  connection,  so  to  sj)eak, 
and  touch,  it  may  be  but  lightly,  upon  the  other 
members  of  the  Daft' family.  Tliere  is  little  to  be 
said  of  them,  but  yet  that  little  seems  necessary  t(» 
till  up  and  render  complete,  as  it  were,  the  back- 
ground. Two  maiden  sisters  and  a  ne'er-do- wed 
brother,  Sandy,  complete  the  group. 

Sandy  was  certainly  an  M.  A.  of  Aberdeen,  as  we 
shall  see  or  hear,  it  may  be,  by  and  by,  but  he  at 
tained  the  position  of  only   a   stickit  lawyer,  and 


I't 


}  \ 


SK 


i- 


I  i 

Mr  J, 


m* 


1: 


i' , 


!i 


',    ! 


;t 


&$ 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


reached  no  higher.  Some  small  provision  had  been 
made  for  the  two  okl  maids,  and  with  assiduous 
care  they  were  able  to  keep  a  roof  over  their  heads 
in  a  neighboring  parish ;  the  said  roof  also,  though 
of  heather,  sheltered  as  well  poor  spendthrift  Sandy. 

Their  brother  the  schoolmaster  died  in  the  spring, 
and  as  the  appointment  of  a  successor  would  not 
take  place  for  some  little  time,  a  considerate  friend, 
the  very  reference  to  whom  brings  a  tear  to  my  eye, 
suggested  that  it  would  be  a  work  of  charity  to  put 
in  a  crop  in  the  dead  man's  garden  for  the  benefit  of 
the  living  members  of  the  family.  Tiiis  was  quietly 
accomi)lislicd.  The  left  hand,  in  this  case,  did  not 
know  what  the  right  hand  had  done.  Potatoes  had 
been  planted  in  the  old  monks'  garden ;  a  reasonable 
amount  of  labor  had  been  bestowed  upon  them,  and 
when  the  autunm  came  the  increase  seemed  to  have 
become  at  least  thirty-fold. 

I  was  then  a  stripling  attending  a  neighboring 
school,  and  passing  every  day  the  door  of  the  Datf 
family.  It  was  now  necessary  to  inform  them  what 
had  been  done,  and  I  had  received  a  suitable  message, 
though  it  might  have  been  altered  in  my  mind  and 
memory  as  I  hurried  on  to  school.  I  knocked  at  the 
humble  door  as  directed,  and  instantly  two  thin, 
worn,  ancient  maidens  stood  before  me,  and  rather 
curtly  demanded  my  business. 


THE  STICKIT  LA  WYEIi. 


m 


Somewhat  confused,  I  blurted  out — "The  taties 
lire  ready  for  houkiu'  in  the  solioolyard  o'  Sillerton, 
and  your  brither  Sandy  better  gaeup  and  look  after 
them."  Ye  gods !  what  a  scraich  greeted  nie. 
''  Sandy !  AVhat  Sandy  dae  ye  mean  ?  Sandy ! 
Sandy!  Sandy!"  rising  in  the  inflection  till  tlio 
last  "Sandy"  reached  a  note  that  1  have  never  since 
heard,  even  through  the  trained  lips  of  a  pri ma- 
donna. "Ye  ail)lins  mean  iSIaister  Alexander  Dalf, 
our  brither.  He  is  nae  Sandy,  but  a  ^Nlaister  o'  Airts 
of  Aberdeen,  for  weel-a-wat  our  father  paid  good 
siller  for  the  honor — Sandy,  did  ye  say?"  l>ut  I 
had  heard  and  seen  enough;  a  species  of  terror  now 
added  wings  to  my  feet,  and  I  heard  no  more.  The 
Master  of  Arts,  however,  Sandy  or  no  Sandy,  duly 
put  in  an  appearance,  and  the  potatoes  that  grew  in 
the  school-liouse  garden  of  Sillerton  were  boiled  by 
the  niaidcMi  sistei's  of  the  ■Nfaster  of  Ails. 

I  remember  well  one  of  Sandy's  tricks.  Fond  of 
a  liitle  tohac(jo  was  he,  but  seldom  was  he  able  to 
imlulge  in  that  luxury.  Fortune,  however,  on  one 
occasion  at  least,  deigned  to  favor  him.  A  sad  in- 
flux of  caterpillars  came,  the  berry  bushes  were  in 
inuninent  danger,  and  tobacco  smoke  alone  could 
put  to  flight  the  enemy.  Poor  Sandy  for  once  in  his 
life  was  happy.  The  ill  wind  blew  him  good  on  this 
occasion.    His  sisters  purchased  a  few  ounces  of 


irf 


li 


ni'i 


-i.i  it 


*Si, 


)■*■ 


■J 


.1 


HI  ^11 


00 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


1^    I 


:|        i 


h  i 


twist;  a  i)ii)o  was  procured,  no  inaltcr  where,  and  I 
had  sevei'iil  limes  l!ie  i>leasm(!  of  s«'iin^-  llie  Master 
of  Arts  sniokin.'jj  nwiiy  eonlenlediy  ih(!  pests  that 
threatened  to  hi'in.^;  ruin  npon  Lis  sisteis'  g-oose- 
l)ei-ries. 

A  wliole  week  was  s[)ent  in  th(;  conseii'ntions  per- 
fornianeeof  duty,  and  hadtiie  sisters'  i-nise  held(M)t, 
Sandy  Datt*  would  liave  smoked  on,  \vitht)nt  one 
g'rumhlH  at  tiie  tronl)le  it  cost  him,  till  the  Lerrlos 
were  fall in,i^  from  the  l)ushes,  or  to  latter  Lammas 
for  auiirht  I  know. 

One  incident  more  I  shall  relate  to  till  up  the 
])ackgTound  I  have  attem[)ted  to  paint,  and  we  shall 
then  finish  with  the  Daff  family. 

Sandy  was  fond  of  tobacco,  but  Sandy  was  also 
fond  of  whisky.  Hence  those  tears  !  hence  the  stick  it 
lawyer!  hence  a  misspent  lil'e,  an<l  smokitig'  vile 
tobacco  beneath  a  gooseberry  bush,  when  instead, 
arrayed  ill  silken  gown,  he  should  have  been  reaping 
a  golden  harvest  at  the  bar.  IJut  such,  alas!  was 
not  for  Sandy.  Occasionally  he  reached  Siilerton  on 
Saturday  evening,  but  for  what  purpose  it  were  hard 
to  say.  Long  habit,  may  have  made  the  journey 
chronic,  if  journeys  ever  become  so,  but  the  chance 
of  a  drop  of  the  barley  bree  was  inducement  enough 
to  him  to  walk  a  few  miles  on  the  pleasures  of  hope. 
One  Saturday  evening  he  had,   for   piobably   good 


TllK  STICK  IT  LA  ID/;/;. 


01 


cause,  betiii  tui'iK.Ml  out  of  the  villuj^t'  shop.  Sandy 
bent  to  the  inevitable,  but  he  recollected  and  wineid 
under  the  insult.  In  those  primitive  days  u  monthly 
market  was  lield  in  the  town  of  Inverurie,  and  theic 
eongrej^iited  busir.ess  men  from  every  surrounding 
distiiet.     Sandy  was  waiting  and  watching  for  his 


revenge. 


Down,  next  market  day,  came  slowly  about  a 
dozen  rider?  from  Sillerton.  They  nuist  needs  pass 
verv  close  to  Daff's  humble  dwellin«;-.  As  thcv  .in- 
proached,  the  Master  of  Arts  rushed  forward  to  meet 
them,  stood  on  the  highway,  juid  most  obsequiously 
lifted  his  hat  to  the  shopkeeper,  who  was  one  of  the 
party,  and  who,  little  more  then  a  week  before,  had 
turned  him  out  of  his  store. 

Pleased  by  Sandy's  attention,  Baggs,  who  was  a 
vain  man,  drew  up  his  nag,  and  addressed  his  re- 
spectful friend.  This  was  just  what  juid  all  that 
Sandy  wanted.  Emitting  a  series  of  sounds  that 
were  admirably  adapted  to  express  his  contempt,  he 
turned  away  hastily  on  his  heel,  muttering  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  by  all  the  party — "  Excuse  me, 
sir;  I  mistook  you  for  a  gentleman."  If  the  scowl 
that  came  from  one,  and  the  roar  of  laughter  that 
rose  from  nil  the  rest  were  wf>rth  anything,  Sandy 
had  won  a  sw<;et  revenge. 

Not  very  long  after,  that  small  building  was  ten- 


:n 


* 


1 


:  A 


I 


if     I 

I      I! 

I: 


.SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 

antless— the  two  sisters  had  passed  away — and  the 
schoolmaster's  brother,  Sandy  Datf,  the  Aberdeen 
Master  of  Arts,  soon  followed.  In  him  death  gleaned 
the  last  sheaf  of  the  Datf  family.    Alas !  poor  Yorick ! 


j 


lii 


r  :  t  1  I  I  ,  ^ 


JJH.L0\y'6  WATCU  L06T  AMj  FOU^D. 


(i:j 


CHAPTER  TX. 


DOCTOR    LOWS    WAT(  11    LOST    AND    FOUND. 


Ye  ken  Jock  Hornbook  i'  the  dachun. 

Deil  mak'  his  king's-hoocl  in  a  spleuchan  ; 

He's  grown  sae  weel  ac([uaint  wV  Bucluin 

An'  ither  chaps, 

The  weans  had  oot  their  fingers  laughin', 

An'  pouk  my  hips. 

Burns. 

Doctor  Low  had  in  youthful,  palmy  days  acceler- 
ated the  movements  of  young  Dobbin  and  his  canny 
master  from  Nethermains  to  the  village  of  Sillerton. 
But  this  was  many  years  before  I  knew  Sillerton,  and 
it  was  only  the  old  stories  that  I  heard.  Hut  I  also 
knew  Low. 

In  a  small  "fell  "  biggin',  in  somewhat  advanced 
age,  and  alone,  lived  the  old  doctor.  Hut  Low's 
occupation  was  gone.  The  xilaces  that  knew  him 
once  now  knew  him  no  more.  Xew  kings  had  risen 
that  knew  not  Joseph.  Young  science  had  juado 
strides  that  left  the  old  practitioner  behi'ul.  Like  tlio 
old  three-deckers  whose  last  shot  had  been  lired,  and 
which  now,  giving  place  to  the  ironclads  of  a  recent 


|if 

!  t 
i  i 

i 


i, 


j 


T 


■p 


I 

■  !  I! 


J 

:iM' 


ill 


1  I 


61 


.SCO 7  77.S7/  FOL  K- LOUE. 


day,  Ijiy  stijiiuled,  useless  hulks  upon  the  shore,  so 
ii  younger  iin<l  betler  educated  class  of  medicals  had 
come  in  to  plactj  tlieir  predecessors  high  and  dry 
upon  the  shelf;  and  the  old  practitioners,  if  they  had 
failed  to  provide  something  for  a  rainy  day,  now 
sank  into  abject  poverty,  or  depeiuied  ui)on  the 
charity  of  one  or  two  who  enabled  them  to  live  with- 
out knowing  that  they  were  actual  paupers.  Such, 
al-.isl  was  poor  old  ]/)w. 

Times  had  gone  hard  with  the  old  man.  Ah! 
could  he  have  -ived  upon  the  stories  about  himself 
that  the  writer  of  this  has  listened  to,  he  would  have 
die<l  of  obesity.  And  su(;h  stories, too!  Ourgrand- 
fathers,  and  grand uiothers  also,  had  a  plain  way  of 
talking,  and  UM  tales  in  the  drawing-room  that 
could  not  now  be  whispered  in  the  kitchen,  fo,  the 
modern  cook  would  blush  at  the  recital  and  tli" 
pretty  housemaid  would  play  bopeep  through  her 
fingers,  and  declare  that  old  fellows  like  Low  were 
very  naughty  boys  indeed. 

Well,  1  may  not,  and  shall  not,  tell  all  the  funny 
things  that  I  have  heaid  about  the  old  doctor;  but 
one  story  at  ]e;ist  may  be  told,  and  no  one  need 
blush  at  its  recital.  Christmas  and  New  Year  were 
drawing neai,  and  all  the  parish  was  bent  on  enjoy- 
ment. But  theie  w:is  rnn  exception.  In  that  turf- 
built  cottage  an  old  man  is  sitting  on  his  so-called 


If 


Dli.  LOU'S  MM  rC//  LOST  X.VD  FOUND. 


65 


easy-chiiir;  the  little  shell  lamp  thut  burns  beside 
him  helps  the  December  day  to  look  longer  than  it 
really  is ;  and  the  bright  peat  lire  sheds  a  ruddy 
glow  (that  would  have  charmed  the  eye  of  a  IJem- 
brandt,)  over  the  old  doct^)r's  face,  as  my  father  and 
I,  after  a  quiet  knock  upon  the  door,  lift  the  latch  and 
"  step  ben  "  as  tlie  cheery  welcome  st  rikes  our  ears. 

With  kindly  tact  the  truth  is  elicited  that  funds 
had  never  been  at  so  low  an  ebb  before ;  the  Yule 
and  New  Year  that  promised  so  much  pleasure  to 
almost  all,  had  no  welcome  tidingsfor  poor,  poverty- 
stricken  Low ;  Jind  as  he  dwelt  fondly  upon  the  rude 
yet  hearty  experiences  of  merrymakings  now  long 
gone  by,  and  in  which  he  himself  played  no  unim- 
portant part,  a  slight  quaver  came  softly  from  his 
lips,  and  one  big  tear  of  regret  rolled  down  his 
wrinkled  cheek.  The  kindly  visitor,  howiiver,  had 
not  come  there  that  evening  to  jidd  to  the  old  man's 
sorrows,  but  to  take  some  of  them  away  if  possible, 
and  in  a  quiet  and  sympathetic  way  it  was  suggested 
that  the  doctor's  gold  watch  should  be  shot  for 
on  Old  Christmas  Day  by  the  sporting  youths  of 
Sillerton. 

The  passing  of  the  watch  into  other  hands  would 
have  occasioned  its  present  possessor  no  inconven- 
ience whatever.  It  was  now  many  years  since  the 
old  timekeeper  had  in  fact  struck  work.  Its  owner 
5 


'■'I 


■■■? 

7  I 


til 


ii 


I 


! 


!  / 


66 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE, 


i  1 


U 


:i 


ii 


firmly  believed  that  the  motion  connected  with  exer- 
cise on  horseback  was  necessary  to  bring  out  all  its 
sterling  qualities,  and  that  its  silence  now  was  caused 
simply  because  its  wearer  no  longer  patronized  the 
gallop,  but  had  descended  to  the  more  sober  pace  of 
"Shank's  mare."  Be  that,  however,  as  it  may,  it 
was  then  and  there  agreed  to,  that  the  gold  watch 
should  be  shot  for  at  Mains  of  Pitfuffie  on  old 
Christmas  day ;  that  subscription  lists  should  ho  ^ 
once  opened;  and  that  the  successful  shot  should 
wear  the  gold  watch.  Qui  meruit palmamferat^  was 
the  motto  of  our  Sillerton  Wapinschaw.  Steadily 
went  on  the  canvass  during  the  days  that  intervened 
between  that  December  evening  and  the  day  of  the 
great  shooting  match. 

There  was  no  limit  to  the  number  of  subscribers ; 
the  ancient  timepiece  possessed  a  value  that  half- 
crowns  scarcely  indicated ;  and  when  the  youth  of 
Sillerton  stood  to  their  guns  (»n  the  heights  of  Pit- 
fuffie on  that  bleak  January  morning  (remember  it 
was  old  style  that  we  kept  tlicn)  it  was  found  lliat 
the  old  watch  had  realized  for  its  owner  nearly  forty 
pounds  sterling,  no  small  sum  amongst  that  quiet 
and  simple  people,  and  a  jxirfect  godsend  to  the  im- 
pecunious old  man.  Tiie  cash  had  all  be(;n  depcsUtxl 
in  tne  hands  of  the  umpire,  the  rules  'us  '  regulations 
had  been  duly  read,  and  the  firing  briskly  begai.. 


DR.  LOW'S  WATCH  LOST  AND  FOUND. 


67 


Old  Christmas  was  certainly  a  legal  holidi»y  in 
Sillerton,  though  there  were  neither  bank  clerks  nor 
Government  officials  there  to  enjoy  their  privileges, 
and  it  devolved  upon  the  schoolboys  alone,  with  a 
few  dozen  ploughmen  and  hobbledehoys  of  the  par- 
ish, to  demonstrate  that  this  was  a  day  to  be  de- 
voted fully  and  freely  to  social  liberty  and  enjoy- 
ment. Steadily  from  morn  to  night  the  guns  blazed 
away,  and  the  roll  of  subscribing  marksmen  was 
not  completed  until  the  shades  of  evening  began  to 
creep  across  the  scarred  brows  of  neiniachie.  No 
shot  had  gained  a  Inill's  eye,  tliongh  tlicre  were  a 
score  at  least  of  ties  that  had  almost  grazed  the 
black  ball  that  marked  the  centre.  These  ties  were 
about  to  be  shot  off,  when  the  remark  was  made 
that  my  father,  \\  mo liad collected  nc^aily  iiine-tentlis, 
of  the  whole  amount,  and  who  was  as  well  a  liberal 
subscriber,  was  not  on  the  ground,  and  had  not 
claimed  a  shot. 

It  was  then  and  there  carried  by  acclaniati(m  that 
a  shot  should  be  fired  on  his  behalf,  his  proxy  being 
the  exciseman,  who  was  unquestionably  the  best  shot 
in  the  parish.  It  was  agreed,  at  the  same  time,  that 
the  ties  should  be  fired  off  after  the  ganger's  shot. 
A  few  moments  of  intense  suspense  came;  the  ex- 
ciseman during  that  time  looked  as  if  carved  out  of 
Millstonehill  gianite;  a  puff  of  blue  smoke  at  last 


1 

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SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


Ii 


cjime  from  the  old  musket,  while  every  breath  was 
hushed,  and  every  eye  strained  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  now  battered  target.  The  marker  quietly 
and  deliberately  performed  his  duty,  and  then  lei- 
surely faced  the  expectant  crowd.  At  last  the  si^^- 
iial  came — a  bull's  eye!  One  shout  rose  over  the 
field  ;  no  ties  had  to  be  shot  off;  the  watch,  the  gold 
watch  of  the  old  doctor,  liad  been  waged  and  won, 
and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  I  was  hurry- 
ing homeward  with  that  gold  watch  nestling  in  my 
breast  pocket,  while  the  temporary  custodian  of  the 
same  felt  as  proud  and  happy  as  if  he  had  won  and 
worn  the  Victoria  Cross. 

What  were  the  thoughts  that  passed  through  my 
mind  as  T  sped  homewards  that  evening,  I  can 
scarcely  tell.  Probably  I  thought  thsit  as  my  father 
required  but  one  watch,  I  was  likely  to  beconie  tl.o 
hai)py  owner  of  the  gold  one,  but  if  not  of  that  cov- 
eted prize,  yet  T  felt  that  one  of  the  watches  must 
fall  to  my  lot,  assuredly  under  any  circumstances. 

No  sooner  had  my  father  arrived  than  I  hastened 
t)  exhibit  to  him  the  tr()[)hy  that  he  had  won.  lie 
assured  me  that  there  was  some  mistake,  as  he  had 
claimed  no  shot.  I  then  recounted  the  occurrences 
of  the  day,  and  th«^  firing  of  the  shot  that  made  the 
bull's  eye.  I  shall  nevt r  forget  the  look  of  sadness 
that  stole  over  his  featuics  as  I  told  my  story.     Prob- 


DU.  LOW  IS  WATCH  LOST  AND  FOUND. 


69 


ably  he  felt  in  his  own  mind  that  I  was  too  young 
to  take  it  upon  myself  to  refuse  the  prize,  but  I 
know  I  felt  supremely  happy  at  that  moment  that  I 
had  expressed  no  craving  for  the  ownership  of  the 
doctor's  watch,  and  I  believe  he  never  once  suspected 
tlie  nature  of  my  feeUngs.  "  Go,"  said  he,  "  at  once 
to  Dr.  Low  ;  give  him  again  his  watch  with  my  com- 
pliments and  say  that  I  hope  he  nay  be  long  spared 
to  wear  it."  Then  in  a  low  voice  he  added — "  I  would 
not  that  that  old  man  should  fall  asleep  this  night 
without  his  watch,  no,  not  for  all  the  gold  watches 
that  were  ever  made." 

As  I  placed  the  prize  half  an  hour  later  in  the  old 
doctor's  hand,  with  my  father's  compliments  and 
wishes,  I  heard  no  word  of  thanks  spoken,  but  a 
silent  tear  stole  down  the  furrowed  cheek.  I  had 
seen  a  tejir  lluM-e  once  before ;  a  tear  of  regret  as  he 
looked  backward  to  a  prosperous  and  merry  past 
that  could  never  return,  and  as  he  felt  and  feared 
that  only  a  gloomy  future  was  in  store  for  him. 
The  tear  that  came  now  was  the  handmaid  of  a 
grateful  heart,  and  whispered  a  message  of  deepest 
thanks  that  no  language  could  have  expressed  so 
well.  I  returned  home  glad  that  I  no  longer  wore  a 
watch.  Did  my  father  feel  that  night  that  it  was 
more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive  ? 


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SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


CHAPTER  X. 

HOW    MART   MITCHELSON    DISHED    HER   HUSBAND'S 

BROSE. 

•'  She  has  an  ee,  she  has  butane, 
The  cat  has  twa  the  very  color, 
Sic  a  wife  as  WilHe  had  !  " 

Tall,  wall-sided,  speaking  a  dialect  neither  Scotch 
nor  English,  but  made  up  of  both,  and  wearing  a  green 
patch  over  one  eye — such  was  the  subject  of  this 
sketch.  This  rude  outline  might  have  been  drawn 
a  year  or  two  before  old  Dobbin  became  an  orphan, 
and  while  John  Forres,  a  young  teacher  from  a 
peculiarly  quiet  and  secluded  parish  of  Aberdeen- 
shire, was  assistant  to  the  old  schoolmaster.  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  touch  lightly  upon  the  young 
dominie  by  and  by. 

Mary  Mitchelson  T  called  her,  but  probably  I 
should  have  designated  her  Mis.  George  Brodie.  It 
was  the  custom,  however,  in  Sillerton,  and  probably 
elsewhere,  for  some  married  ladies  to  retain  their 
maiden  names,  just  as  ladies,  in  these  modern  days, 
celebrated  in  literature  or  art,  or  by  rank  or  riches, 
often  retain  the  name  under  which  they  won  their 


UOW  MAU  Y  MITCfJELSON  DISHED  THE  liUOSE.  71 


spurs,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  use  the  expression 
with  reference  to  the  fair  sex.  It  seems  to  me 
indeed  that  this  was  more  commonly  the  usage, 
perhaps  I  should  have  said  universally  the  usage, 
when  the  gray  mare  was  the  better  horse. 

Well,  Mary  Mitchelson  was  a  woman  of  pro- 
nounced character,  and  affected  a  style  of  language 
and  genteel  manners  that  seemed  considerably 
above  her  social  position  as  a  Sillertonian.  Poor, 
simple,  homely  Geordie  Brodie  was  only  a  sawyer, 
and  before  saw-mills  were  common  in  Sillerton 
earned  his  living  by  converting  the  Scotch  firs  that 
covered  nine-tenths  of  the  parish  into  boards  and 
scantling. 

The  labors  of  a  sawyer  were  necessarily  severe, 
and  as  long  distances  had  frequently  to  be  traversed 
between  the  home  of  the  laborer  and  his  workshoji, 
it  was  no  wonder  that  Geordie  Brodie  often  returned 
home  weary,  ay,  weary  and  hungry  as  well.  Thia 
was  just  as  it  should  be  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances; and  wlien  tliere  was  the  wherewithal  to 
satisfy  the  cravings  of  hnn|L;'er,  the  fact  itself  should 
have  suggested  a  feeling  of  gnititnde,  for  our  na- 
tional bard  puts  it  thus — 

"  Some  luie  meat  and  canna  eat. 
And  some  wad  eat  that  want  it ; 
But  we  bae  meat  and  wh  can  eat, 
Audbue  the  LurJ  be  Utuitkil," 


i 

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11 


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SCOTTISH  FOLKLORE. 


^    it  % 


I  have  said  that  the  sawyer  should  have  heen 
grateful  for  the  feeling  of  hunger  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  but  there  was  something  more  than 
ordinary  in  this  case.  Geordie  Brodie  and  Mary 
Mitchelson  were  not  precisely  at  one  with  regard 
to  the  quantity  of  eatables  that  should  satisfy  the 
gnawing  appetite  of  a  healtliy,  hungry  man.  Mary, 
in  fact,  must  have  been  first  cousin  to  Mrs.  Squeers, 
of  Do-the-boys  Hall,  thonf»ii  she  did  not  adopt 
the  same  tactics  in  turning  the  edge  of  the  appe- 
tite. 

And  so  it  happened  that  the  sawyer  frequently, 
nay,  invariably,  complained  of  receiving  short  com- 
mons on  his  nightly  return  from  his  arduous  labors. 
Philosophers  had  long  ago  discovered  that  "Nature 
abhorred  a  vacuum,"  but  it  needed  no  i»hllosopher  to 
discover  that  when  a  vacuum  existed  in  a  man's 
stomach,  the  owner  of  said  stomach  was  ill  at  ease 
with  himself  and  the  world  at  large.  Mary  ignored 
this  fact,  and  day  after  day,  and  week  after  week, 
continued  to  dole  out  to  Geordie  a  measure  of  brose 
to  his  supper  that  lacked  at  least  a  third  of  the 
quantity  that  he  considered  should  fall  to  his  lot. 
Complaints,  grumblings,  and  recriminations  in  con- 
sequence passed  between  the  pair,  until  one  evening 
matters  came  to  a  climax,  and  Geordie  Brodie  abso- 
lutely refused  to  even  tast€t  his  usual  allowance. 


now  MAliV  MITCH  1:L soy  DISHED  TIIK  lUiOSK.   73 

Mary,  ins tetul  of  yiel(lin,qjtliat obedience  tluit  slieluid 
doubtless  once  promised,  l>iltiMly  resented  b(M'  biis- 
biind's  "evil  temper,"  us  siie  wus  pleased  t.)  vaW  it, 
and  brooded  iji  silence  over  her  own  fancied  wrongs. 
Dnrincr  tbe  following  day  the  same  feeling;  absorbed 
her  thoughts,  until  near  the  time  when  preparation 
liad  to  be  made  for  Geordie's  return. 

Suddenly  a  happy  thought  seemed  to  strike  Mrs. 
Brodie,  and  a  smile  of  satisfaction  flitted  across  her 
saturnine,  pinched  features.  Eureka  (I  have  found 
it),  Mary  might  have  exclaimed,  had  she  known 
Greek,  but,  Greek  or  no  Greek,  she  had  found  a  hap- 
py solution  to  the  problem  that  she  had  been  so  long 
pondering  in  her  mind.  To  think,  with  Mary,  was 
to  act.  She  at  once  rose  from  her  seat  beside  the 
fire  that  she  had  been  stirring  in  anticipation  of 
preparing  her  husband's  evening  meal,  and  hastened 
to  the  byre,  that  was  only  a  few  dozen  of  yards  from 
the  house.  There,  providing  herself  with  the  wood- 
en trough  in  which  the  cow  was  usually  supplied 
with  her  allowance  of  boiled  turnips  and  chaff,  Mary 
was  soon  again  in  her  own  kitchen.  Tlie  trough 
was  duly  placed  on  the  table  where  Geordie  Brodie's 
cap  of  brose  usually  stood ;  a  large  quantity  of  o;it- 
meal,  butter,  and  boiling  water  were  stirred  together 
in  the  lordly  dish,  and  with  a  grim  smile  of  satisfac- 
tion, Mary  awaited  the  denouement. 


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SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


She  luul  not  long  to  wait.  Brodie  almost  immedi- 
ately entered  the  little  apartment  that  served  the 
double  purpose  of  kitchen  and  dining-room,  and 
hungry  and  tired,  as  usual,  his  eye  naturally  turned 
to  the  table.  A  sarcastic  jibe  from  his  better-half 
might  have  accelerated  his  scrutinizing  glance.  Be 
that,  however,  as  it  may,  the  hungry  sawyer  took 
in  the  whole  situation  at  once.  And  then,  what  a 
storm  arose!  Little  did  the  wife  anticipate  the 
furious  rage  that,  in  one  moment,  converted  the 
quiet  and  douce  Geordie  Brodie  into  a  raving  maniac. 
But  so  it  was. 

What  then  and  there  took  place  was  never  known. 
Geordie  Brodie  went  next  morning  to  his  daily  toil 
as  usual.  Young  Geordie — for  they  had  one  son — 
looked  after  such  matters  as  required  some  atten- 
tion outside,  and  only  after  a  long  month's  seclusion 
did  Mary  Mitchelson  appear  in  the  Sillerton  Square. 
But  an  altered  woman  was  she.  Tier  stiff  and  un- 
shapely form  seemed  even  more  acute-angled  than 
before ;  the  sarcastic  smile  was  perceptibly  intensi- 
fied, and  to  crown  all  there  was  a  green  patch  over 
one  of  her  eyes,  that  was  never  removed  during  the 
many  years  that  she  thereafter  lived  in  Sillerton. 
Poor  Mary  had  few  friends,  and  did  little  to  con- 
ciliate  the  few  who  might  have  been  friendly  to  her. 
Her  bite  was  ever  readier  than  her  smile,  and  scath- 


uo  ir  MA  li  y  M 1 1  aiKLsox  uisii  icd  the  brose.  75 


iiig  surciisui  eumc  inoiv  freely  iuul  naturally  from 
her  lips  than  conimeiKlatioii  ami  praise.  Sarcasm, 
indeed,  with  Mary  Mituhelsun  was  always  upon  a 
hair-trigger. 

Once  more  we  venture  to  fill  up  a  background. 

The  son,  Geordie  junior,  was  a  pu^ul  in  the  parish 
school,  at  this  time  taught  by  the  assistant  of  Louis 
Alexander.  One  day  during  the  recital  of  the  fore- 
noon lessons,  the  door  suddenly  opened,  the  face  of 
Mary  Mitchelson  appeared,  and  a  shrill  and  some- 
what angry  voice  demanded — "  George !  Avhere  did 
you  put  the  jocktaleg  before  you  went  to  school  ?  " 
The  question  was  put  in  words  that  stood  out  singly, 
as  it  were,  and  which  were  scarcely  in  the  style 
commonly  used  in  Sillerton.  Very  different  were 
the  accent  and  tone  that  came  from  Geordie,  "  In 
the  greep  ahint  the  coo,  mither." 

The  effect  was  irresistible.  Even  the  smallest 
Scotch  heads  took  it  in.  One  roar  of  laughter  rose 
from  all  present,  which  was  also  participated  in  by 
the  youthful  assistant.  Mary,  however,  quailed  not 
under  the  ridicule  that  her  visit  and  question  had 
evoked,  but,  ignoring  all  the  others,  she  fixed  her 
one  eye  upon  the  poor  but  guilty  dominie,  and  speak- 
ing slowly,  as  if  desiring  that  every  word  she  uttered 
should  be  a  species  of  dagger-thrust,  she  annihilated 
him  with  the  scathing  remark.    "What — could — 


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SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


you — expect — out— of — Leochel  ?  "  Leochel,  I  may 
explain,  was  the  native  parisli  of  the  teacher.  The 
door  banged  loudly  and  Mary  Mitchelson  was  gone. 
Her  remark,  however,  remained  behind,  and  became 
a  byword  in  the  parish  of  Sillerton,  and  I  doubt 
not,  were  I  fortunate  enough  to  ever  revisit  those 
scenes  of  my  boyhood,  I  should  still  hear,  many  a 
time,  a  free  and  Scotch  translation  of  the  Jewish 
proverb,  "  Can  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Naz- 
areth." 


qUEEN'S  SCOICU  Ati  UPOKEN  IN  tSlLLERTON,     77 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THB   queen's    scotch    AS    SPOKEN   IN    SILLERTON. 

But  he,  I  ween,  was  of  the  north  coimtrie. 

Beattie's  '•Minstrel.'" 

It  was  stated  in  the  foregoing  chapter  that  Mary 
Mitchelson  spoke  a  dialect  somewhat  different  from 
thiit  used  in  Sillerton.  At  tlie  same  time  it  may  be 
explained,  that,  for  causes  to  be  given,  the  Scotch 
of  the  Sillertonians  was  not  precisely  identical  witli 
that  spoken  in  other  parishes  of  the  Garioch,  and 
especially  in  places  lying  to  the  west  and  north  of 
the  parish. 

It  is  curio^  s  sometimes  to  note  the  effects  pro- 
duced even  by  a  range  of  hills  surrounding  a  small 
community,  and  shutting  it  out,  so  to  speak,  from 
other  communities ;  effects  that  influence,  in  no 
small  degree,  language,  character,  both  mental  and 
physical,  and  last,  but  not  least,  religion  itself.  I 
recollect  well,  in  boyhood's  days,  when  spending  my 
holiday  among  the  hills  that  lie  between  the  Don 
and  Spey,  I  more  than  once  came  upon  a  connnu- 


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78 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


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{     ■ 


nity  of  Roman  Catholics  living  snugly  in  sonie 
sheltered  valley  that  had  remained  uninfluenced  by 
the  great  Reformation  that  had  swept  over  Scot- 
land, but  which  had  passed  them  by,  simply  on 
account  of  the  gigantic  bulwark  of  rocks  and  hills 
that  rendered  communication  with  the  people  living 
within  this  barrier  very  difficult,  if  not  well-nigh 
impossible. 

I  remember  meeting  on  the  Gaudie  side  of  Ben- 
nachie,  two  members  of  the  Royal  Academy  of 
Paintsrs,  one  of  whom,  the  celebrated  so-called 
"  Philip  of  Spain,"  was  searching  closely  for  types  of 
genuine  Scottish  faces,  with  which  to  fill  up  a  his- 
torical scene  he  was  painting.  I  sent  him  to  such  a 
spot  as  I  have  just  described,  the  Cabrach,  and  years 
afterwards  he  assured  me  that  he  had  found  there 
exactly  what  he  wanted.  As  to  the  influence  of 
such  a  locality  on  language  there  can  be  no  doubt 
whatever,  and  hence  the  Grampian  range,  that 
sheltered  Sillerton  from  the  west  and  north, 
rendered  Sillerton's  speech  somewhat  different  from 
that  spoken  beyond  the  dividing  line. 

There  were  other  causes  as  well  to  influence  our 
speech.  SillerUm  was,  in  one  respect,  somewhat 
ambitious,  and  amongst  the  farmers  who  cultivated 
its  fair  meadows  and  sunny  slopes  there  were 
several  who  liad  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  a  college 


Q  UEEN'  8  SCOTCH  A  H  SPOKEN  IN  SILLER  TON.     79 


education.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  these  men 
had  given  themselves  the  trouble  of  working  for  a 
degree  in  Arts^  but  four  years  at  the  University 
had  made  them  at  least  fair  schohirs,  while  four 
years'  intercourse  with  youths  drawn  from  all 
parts  of  Scotland  served,  in  no  small  measure,  to 
influence  their  Doric  Scotch,  and  through  them  to 
influence  others  with  whom  they  were  daily  associ- 
ated. The  degrees  were  more  in  the  way  of  pro- 
fessional men;  and  ministers,  schoolmasters,  and 
medicals  (we  seemed  to  educate  no  lawyers  in 
Sillerton)  deemed  it  at  least  advisable  to  go  in  for 
the  degree  of  M.  A. 

From  this  it  is  evident  that  the  Queen's  Scotch 
was  somewhat  different  among  the  upper  ten  of 
Sillerton  society,  for  we  were  strictly  conservative 
in  those  days,  and  when  invited  to  a  dance,  dinner, 
or  picnic,  could  always  tell  precisely  who  the 
individuals  were,  they  at  least  of  the  parish,  who 
would  receive  and  accept  invitations.  All  this  had 
its  influence  beyond  the  immediate  circle,  like  the 
stone  cast  into  a  still  pond,  that  not  only  makes  a 
splurge  in  the  very  spot  where  it  falls,  but  sends 
countless  ripples  away  on  every  side  to  the  very 
shore.  In  fact,  one  can  scarcely  conceive  how  easily 
and  readily  language  is  affected  by  the  circum- 
stances that  surround  us,  and  I  remember  well  the 


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!! 


\\i 


Uf 


1-^ 


80 


.SCO /"r/87/  F07. K-LORE. 


remark  of  a  pawky  farmer  of  Silleitou  in  corrobora- 
tion of  tiiis  assertion  on  our  part.  A  neighbor 
remarked  tliat  his  "orra"  man  spoke  in  a  style 
quite  different  from  tliat  used  by  the  otlier  servants. 
"Oh,  aye,"  said  tlie  carl,  "I  ance  sent  Jock  on 
some  business  to  the  Lothians ;  lie  was  awa  a  hide 
fortniclit,   and  he  has   spoken   pure  English  ever 

Since  syne." 

There  was  also  another  factor  at  work  which  in 
due  course  affected  the  Queen's  Scotch  as  spoken  i:i 
Sillerton.  Not  many  years  before  the  commence- 
ment of  my  school-days,  a  good  deal  of  Scotch  was 
spoken  by  our  schoolmasters,  and  it  was  no  un- 
common circumstance  to  hear  a  commentary  on  a 
chapter  of  the  Bible  conducted  from  the  pulpit  in 
genuine  Scotch. 

This  was  not  the  case  with  the  Rev.  Robert  For- 
dyce,  for  with  him  both  bearing  and  language  were 
dignity  personified ;  but  slightly  farther  north  the 
old  Scotch  still  held  its  sway,  and  an  esteemed 
class-fellow  of  mine  told  me  that  he  heard  a  note^ 
divine,  not  many  miles  from  Aberlour,  use  the  fol- 
lowing "grace  before  supper"  on  one  occasion — 
"  For  what  I  and  the  ither  three  lads  are  aboot  to 
receive,  Lord,  mak'  us  a'  truly  thankfu'.    Amen." 

In  this  case,  however,  we  must  bear  in  mind  that 
there  was  no  doubt  whatever  about  what  language 


Q  U  t:K.Y  S  SCOTCU  A  S  fiPOKEy  /.V  SIL  L  EH  TON.     81 


the  speaker  intended  to  use,  uiid  the  T^ev.  Mr.  Wil- 
son, of  Abei'louv,  spoke  Scotch  becuuse  he  liked  to 
speak  it,  and  because  probably  he  found  himself 
more  at  home  in  it  than  were  he  using  the  Queen's 
English.  l>ut  in  the  case  of  educated  men  who 
knew  English  well,  who  could  spell  it  correctly,  and, 
were  perfectly  conversant  with  its  grammar  and 
idioms,  we  are  well  aware  that  they  were  frequently 
not  acquainted  with  the  proper  vowel  sounds. 
This  fact  is  pointed  out  in  the  life  of  the  author  of 
"  TuUochgorum."  In  one  of  Skinner's  pieces,  which 
is  written  in  the  purest  English,  the  rhyme  shows 
this  defect.  The  piece  we  refer  to  is  "John  of 
Badenyon,"  and  it  is  at  least  interesting  to  note  how 
frequently  the  long  sound  of  "o''  is  made  to  ryhme 
to  the  last  t^yllable  ol  the  name  of  the  hero,  which 
is  unquestionably  short.  Of  course  it  might  be 
pleaded  that  there  are  certahi  "allowable  rhymes," 
and  that  the  greatest  English  poets  have  availed 
themselves  of  the  privilege  when  necessary. 
In  Pope  we  find  the  following  lines — 

Thus  Pegasus,  a  nearer  way  to  take, 

May  boldly  deviate  from  the  common  track  ; 

and  in  Dryden  we  have  the  following: — 

The  sun  his  annual  course  obliquely  made, 
Good  days  contracted  and  enlarg'd  the  bad. 

We  might  indeed  quote  such  examples  by  the 
6 


: 
M 


i\ 


1 


•r 

t 


I 


I 


Vi 


• 


I    I 


82 


8C0TTISU  FOLK-LORE. 


hundred.  This  was  iiiidoubte<lly  a  species  of  poetical 
license,  hut  among  my  own  personal  clerical  friends 
there  were  a  half-dozen  at  least,  who,  in  certain 
vowel  sounds,  and  especially  when  in  the  pulpit, 
used  liberties  with  the  Queen's  English  positively 
startling,  and  it  alv/ays  appeared  a  puzzle  to  me 
how  such  pronunciation  could  have  been  acquired. 
But  such  it  was. 

Doubtless,  the  introduction  of  railways,  and  a 
freer  intercourse  between  the  natives  on  both  sides 
of  the  Tweed  have  done  much  during  the  last  half- 
century  to  enable  even  the  more  highly-educated 
Scot  to  distinguish  correctly  between  the  different 
sounds  of  the  same  vowel,  and  we  doubt  not,  that 
the  next  northern  bard  who  tries  his  hand  at  a  new 
version  of  "  John  o'  Badenyon "  will  steer  clear, 
without  difficulty,  of  those  solecisms  that  were  ere- 
while  committed  by  the  genial  pastor  of  Linshart. 

I  knew  intimately  a  very  excellent  divine  on 
Donside;  a  man  distinguished  for  his  learning; 
valued  and  honored  in  Church  courts;  eloquent 
either  on  the  platform  or  in  the  pulpit ;  and  above 
all  one  of  the  most  genial  of  men,  and  yet  as  to  his 
pronunciation  of  the  Queen's  English  he  was  a  veri- 
table barbarian.  The  witty  editor  of  an  Aberdeen 
weekly  remarked,  that  it  was  a  pity  that  the  learned 
and  popular  minister  of  T had,  in  his  youth,  got 


'7 


I 


i^UEEiS' 6  btVICU  AS  SPOKEN  IN  SILLEHTON.     83 

a  spurious  edition  of  Walker's  pronouncing  dic- 
tionary. 

But,  after  all,  are  these  things  to  be  considered 
strange  in  the  case  of  Scotchmen,  when  we  find 
Englishmen  themselves  sometimes,  nay  oftentimes, 
anything  but  correct  in  the  pronunciation  of  their 
own  language? 

I  have  heard  in  an  English  Cathedral  from  the 
lips  of  a  graduate  of  an  English  University,  and 
from  one,  too,  enjoying  those  marks  of  distinction 
after  his  name  that  stamp  men  eminent  for  scholar- 
ship— I  have  heard,  I  say,  false  pronunciation  of 
English  that  was  perfectly  startling.  Need  we 
wonder  then  when  we  hear  an  educated  Scotch- 
man calling  a  Presbyterian  Synod  "  this  reverend 
coort,"  or  employing  equally  eccentric  modes  of 
speech  that  should  have  been  eliminated,  if  not  in 
the  nursery,  then  in  the  parish  school  ? 

I  may  remark  here,  that  the  inspectorship  of 
schools  also,  in  connection  with  bequests  that  ap- 
plied to  our  parochial  system,  made  it  imperative 
that  a  sound  English  education  should  be  given  in 
our  schools,  and  while  the  classics  and  mathematics 
scarcely  jarred  with  the  pure  Doric  of  the  Garioch, 
yet  with  the  teaching  of  English  it  was  quite  differ- 
ent. 

It  was  indeed  difficult  to  find  teachers  in  those 


! 


.|| 


^ 


i». 


i 

-i, 

;i 

1 

1 

i» 

! 

,  ■...  j 

H 

1 

,< 

1 

I'i 

if 

84 


SCOTTISIJ  FOLK-LORE. 


days  who  had  anything  like  a  correct  idea  of  the 
different  vowel  sounds,  and  how  could  they,  under 
the  circumstances?  Many  of  our  teachers  held  that 
English  grjunmar  was  unnecessary  where  the  Latin 
grammar  had  to  be  taught,  and  hence,  while  spell- 
ing and  some  other  things  were  cori'ect  enough,  yet 
the  pronunciation  was  sadly  defective. 

Here,  however,  is  a  case  in  point.  The  inspector 
of  the  Dick  Bequest  was  examining  a  school  not  far 
from  the  shady  side  of  Bennachie,  and  took  occasion 
to  correct  a  class  for  their  inattention  to  the  different 
sounds  of  the  vowel  "u,"  t!ie  word  "biill"  having 
occurred  in  the  lesson,  and  pointing  out  in  the  dic- 
tionarv  kev,  how  the  vowel  should  be  sounded  in 
different  words.  The  dominie  could  not  stand  tiiif^, 
but  interru[)ted  the  proceedings  with  the  remark, 
"Nn,  na,  sir;  it's  bull,  full,  pull,"  pronouncing  the 
three  words  in  the  broadest  Doric,  Scotch,  "an'  the 
loons  are  richt." 

This  may  be  an  exceptional  case,  but  doubtless 
its  existence  in  a  greater  or  less  extent  brougiil  it 
about,  that  when  a  vacancy  occurred  in  8iIIert(Ui, 
the  place  was  filled  by  young  men  who  had  enjoyed 
a  town  training  in  addition  to  the  Visual  classical 
education.  This  was  tritly  tlie  piece  of  leaven  liiat 
leavened  the  lump. 

Old  Louis  Alexander  Daff  indoctrinated  hi^  pupils 


QUEEN'S  SCOTCH  AS  SPOKEN  IN  SILLERTON.     85 


with  as  pure  Latinity  as  we  got  from  the  more  modern 
teachers,  but  the  latter  taught  us  English  Grammar, 
and  gave  us  such  a  pronunciation  of  English  as  would 
enable  us  to  become  tutors  in  any  of  our  more 
ambitious  Scotch  families,  or  even  successful 
teachers  beyond  the  border  in  English  schools. 

Gentle  reader,  bear  in  mind  that  it  is  not  here 
pretended  that  the  youths  of  Sillerton  succeeded  in 
acquiring  an  English  accent.  No,  no;  not  often  do 
we  find  Scotchmen  who  do  this,  and  while  we 
occasionally  meet  our  countrymen  who  were  perhaps 
educated  in  England,  and  who  had  been  long  strang- 
ers to  the  land  of  the  heather,  speaking  a  language 
that  would  scarcely  indicate  their  nationality,  yet 
when  we  enter  into  familiar  conversation  with  theni, 
there  generally  slips  out  a  word  or  phrase  that  be- 
trays its  northern  origin.  It  is  not  universally  the 
case  that  the  accent  remains,  but  it  is  very  frequently 
so,  and  in  proof  I  may  mention  an  incident  that 
happened  in  my  own  experience.  Dining  at  a  mess 
table,  where  I  had  the  honor  of  performing  the 
duties  of  regimental  chaplain,  an  English  lady  who 
sat  next  to  me  said,  "  How  is  it  that  Scotchmen  so 
often  retain  their  Scotch  accent,  even  after  many 
years'  absence  from  Scotland  ?  I  have  often  asked 
the  question,  but  T  confess  that  T  have  never  received 
a  sB*^'*sfactory  answer."    I  replied  that  I  felt  satisfied 


m 


j 


i|i 


^ 


It     1 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


:S 


)';    i 


that  it  would  be  unnecessary  for  lier  to  ask  the  same 
question  again,  as  I  could  ftive  a  conclusive  answer. 
"  How  is  it  then?"  she  inquired.  Raising  my  head, 
and  looking  as  dignified  as  possible.  I  replied,  "  We 
are  proud  of  our  accent." 

"Ah !  I  just  thought  as  much." 

There  was  a  slight  lull  in  the  conversation,  and  I 
very  quietly  threw  in  the  additional  information, 
"  But,  madam,  there  is  another  reason,  for  were  we 
to  try  to  get  rid  of  our  accent  I  do  believe  that 
we  would  find  it  impossible."  It  is  needless  to 
say  that  I  brought  down  the  house  and  that  my 
fair  questioner  laughingly  remarked,  "  I  am  quite 
satisfied  now." 

I  shall  close  this  chapter  with  showing  the  care 
that  our  ped^'^ogues  took  not  only  in  teaching  what 
they  held  to  be  pure  English,  but  in  getting  their 
pupils  to  read  with  an  eye  to  punctuation  as  well, 
without  which  the  sense  of  the  passage  might  have 
escaped  them  altogether.  A  neighboring  teacher 
fell  upon  the  unique  plan  of  getting  his  pupils  to 
pronounce  the  w  ord  "  tick  '  whenever  a  comma 
occurred  in  a  sentence ;  a  semi-colon  and  colon  re- 
ceived two  "ticks,"  while  the  full  stop  elicited  three 
"ticks."  This  was  to  be  practised,  however,  for  a 
short  time  only,  and  as  the  school  examination 
approached,  the  "ticks"  were  duly  dropped,  and 


Ui'KKXS  ^t'OTCU  AH  SPOKEy  LW  SILLEHTOS,     87 


"(lummy  tioks,"  so  to  speuk,  were  used  insteiul. 
The  giviit  diiy  at  last  ciuue,  and  the  liible-chiss  was 
paraded  ft)r  duty.  Uut'ortunately  tlie  dux  had  been 
absent  for  a  few  days,  and  liad  not  been  made  aware 
of  the  new  order  for  abolishinj^  the  "  ticks." 

The  chapter  for  theday  was  duly  pointed  out,  and 
tiie  dux,  evidently  in  his  nervousness,  skipping 
several  important  parts  of  the  passage,  yet,  in  a  clear 
and  distinct  voice,  astonished  the  listoning  divines 
with  a  new  rendering  of  the  Scripture  lesson : — 
"  And  the  Lord  said  unto  Moses,  tick,  say  unto  the 
children  of  Israel,  tick,  tick;  and  Moses  said  unto 
the  children  of  Israel,  tick,  tick,  tick." 

And  lastly,  as  some  of  our  preachers  were  wont 
to  say,  even  after  the  conclusion,  I  shall  instance  the 
case  of  Willie  Nuckel,  so  called,  a  crofter  in  the 
village,  who  nearly  lost  his  croft  by  inatten  tion  to  the 
due  punctuation  of  his  speech,  if  I  may  so  designate 
the  blunder.  Nuckel  evidently  had  never  been  duly 
drilled  in  school  days  in  the  proper  use  of  the  "  ticks," 
and  in  consequence  nearly  came  to  grief.  Nuckel 
was  the  owner  of  a  horse  called  Diamond,  why  so 
called  I  am  now  unable  to  say — probably  for  some 
excellent  qualities  that  the  animal  possessed.  In 
those  days  few  pedestrians  were  allowed  to  pass 
through  the  Home  Park,  which  separated  the  laird's 
residence  from  the  village  of  Sillerton,  and  to  be 


ii!'^ 


u 


'hi' 


•l: 


('■ 


m 


1*1 


!  : 


i 


■r 


88 


^C'O  TTISJI  FOL  K-L  O UE, 


■  ! 


seen  there  with  a  horse  and  cart,  or  in  fact  with  any 
vehicle  whatever,  would  have  been  considered  a 
species  of  sacrilege. 

Nuckel,  however,  had  received  orders  from  the 
proper  quarter,  and  early  one  morning  was  met  l)y 
tlie  laird  while  carting  a  load  of  fallen  branches  from 
the  said  park  to  the  village.  The  somewhat  inite 
proprietor  demanded  of  Nuckel,  and  not  in  voi-y 
pleasant  tones,  why  and  what  he  was  carting  there. 

Nuckel  was  decidedly  in  a  liurry,  and  was  little 
inclined  to  parley  with  any  one,  the  only  words  heard 
by  the  squire  being,  "  Sticks  for  the  forester  ye 
brute — Diamond,  get  up." 

Poor  Nuckel  was  served  with  the  usual  notice  to 
leave  his  croft  and  cottage  at  next  iMartinmus,  the 
laird  having  imagined  tiiat  the  word  "brute"  was 
applied  to  himself  personally.  A  due  explanation 
stayed  the  sentence,  and  Nuckel  sleeps  in  Sillerton 
churchyard.  The  obnoxious  epitliet,  after  all,  was 
really  not  intended  for  the  laird,  but  for  the  horse: 
but  still  the  proper  application  of  tlie  "tick"  in  the 
right  place,  would  have  in  this  case  saved  days  and 
weeks,  nay,  months,  of  misery. 


JANE  liAliDEN'S  MILK  FOli  liAUKS. 


b9 


CHAPTER  XII. 

JEAN   BARDEX'S    MILK    FOR    BABES. 

Though  the  "  Brownie  o'  Blednoch  "  lang  be  gane, 
The  mark  o'  his  feet's  left  on  mony  a  stane  : 
An'  mony  a  wife  an'  mony  a  wean 

Tell  the  feats  of  Aiken-druni. 

E'en  now,  light  loons  that  jibe  an'  sneer 

At  spiritual  guests  an'  a'  sio  gear, 

At  the  Glashnoch  niiil  hae  swat  wi'  fear, 

An'  looked  roun'  for  Aiken-drum. 

And  guidly  folks  hae  gotten  a  fright, 
When  the  moon  was  set,  and  the  stars  gied  nae  light, 
At  the  roaring  linn  in  the  howe  o'  the  night, 
Wi'  sughs  like  Aiken-drum. 

The  Broivnie  o'  Blednoch. 

I  OPTEX  wonder  if  those  who  were  most  zealous  in 
indoctrinating  our  young  minds  with  all  the  super- 
stitions of  those  days  ever  reflected  on  the  great 
wrong  they  were  doing.  I  wonder  if  they  ever 
thought  that  it  would  take,  in  some  cases,  the 
effort  of  years  to  root  out  the  weeds  that  they  were 
then  so  anxious  to  sow ;  nay,  that  in  some  cases  so 
deeply  would  these  weeds  penetrate  into  the  mind, 


i  ~  \ 


^ 

I 


il 


if!; 


1  im 
I 


vH 


11 


'' ', 


Hi 


w 


h'-i 


\  1^ 


I  • 


Pi 


90 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


that  they  would  grow  with  our  growth,  and 
blossom  as  freely  in  old  age,  as  when  we  clung  to 
our  mother's  apron  strings. 

It  is  said  that  noted  travellers  who  have  spent 
years  amongst  savage  tribes,  even  when  they  return 
to  civilization,  dread  to  hear  a  footstep  behind  them, 
and  peer  cautiously  into  a  room  before  they  enter  it. 
And  men  I  have  personally  known,  who  had  borne 
themselves  bravely  through  many  a  hard-fought 
and  bloody  field,  yet  when  the  shadows  of  night 
came  down,  would  not  have  gone  alone  a  hundred 
yards  in  the  dark,  no  matter  what  the  bribe  might 
be  that  sought  to  tempt  them.  And  all  this,  at 
least  in  the  latter  case,  very  probably  originated  in 
the  habit,  doubtless  long  established,  of  telling 
stories  of  a  blood-curdling  character  to  the  young, 

Jean  Barden  was  pre-eminently  the  story-teller  of 
Sillerton.  It  was  true  that  the  meal-miller  could 
spin  a  wonderful  yarn  about  water-kelpies  and 
their  strange  doings,  and  how  the  miller  word, 
when  properly  and  artistically  handled,  could  in- 
stantaneously arrest  a  water-wheel  in  full  career 
and  perform  sundry  other  wonderful  things — all  of 
which  tales  were  greedily  swallowed  by  many  of 
the  miller's  audience,  for  audience  he  often  had 
when  the  first  oats  of  the  season  began  to  arrive  at 
Damhead.     But  the  burly  miller  could  not  held  a 


JANE  BARDEN  'S  MILK  FOR  BABES. 


91 


candle  to  Jean,  who,  both  in  yield  and  variety,  dis- 
tanced every  competitor. 

The  fact  is,  that  at  this  distant  date,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  specify  exactly  the  points  possessed  by 
Jean  that  enabled  her  to  outstrip  all  other  rivals, 
it  is  possible  that  one  point  was  the  variety  of 
beings  of  supernatural  origin  that  filled  her  reper- 
toire. 

The  miller  had  only  two  strings  to  his  bow — the 
miller  word  and  the  water-kelpie;  the  blacksmith, 
during  the  intervals  that  occurred  between  the 
hammering  of  the  iron  and  the  reheating  of  it 
again,  dealt  chiefly  with  feats  of  marily  strength 
that  he  had  witnessed  ;  while  the  tailor  and  h\n 
apprentice,  who  made  periodical  visits  to  Sillerton 
to  re-clothe  the  males  of  the  village  in  new  gar- 
ments, retailed  pretty  much  the  gossip  that  they 
oatliered  during  their  wanderings  throughout 
the  country,  and  which,  in  tliose  quiet  times,  when 
"dailies"  were  yet  undreamt  of,  were  alike  inter- 
esting to  high  and  low,  and  young  and  old. 

I  had  almost  forgotten  little  Sandy  Simms,  the 
cobbler,  but  I  am  now  under  the  impression  that 
his  fortc5  lay  in  relating  stories  that  very  graphic- 
ally brought  out  the  pawky  character  of  Scot- 
tish humor.  But  Jean  operated  in  another  field 
altogetlier — the  horrible  in  what  was  human,  and 


I  J 


m 


; 


I  i  ;: 


1  '4 


;t 


l\ 


I 


:H 


92 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


the  blood-curdling  in  what  was  su[)ei'Matui'al,  being 
the  commodities  in  wlncli  slio  dealt.  Nor  was  her 
stock  of  these  by  any  mejins  liuiitetl,  as  kelpies, 
goblins,  fairies,  brownies,  elves,  giiosts,  wizards, 
witches,  and  sundry  others  of  a  kiiidrvd  nature, 
were  to  her  household  words.  Had  she  been  re- 
quested to  describe  these,  I  doubt  not  Joan  would 
have  done  so  with  ease,  and  classified  them  to  the 
entire  satisfaction  of  the  most  exacting  scientist. 
Then,  in  addition  to  melancholy  songs  and  ballads, 
all  invariably  of  a  lugubrious  character,  and  cover- 
ing a  wide  field  of  weird  literature,  her  vivid  imagi- 
nation, and  her  peculiar  faculty  of  finding  suitable 
words  to  express  her  meaning,  would  alone  have 
made  her  remarkable  in  any  community.  To  us 
she  certainly  was  remarkable,  and  charmed  us  as 
the  snake  charms  its  unresisting  prey. 

Jean,  along  with  her  husband  and  family,  occu- 
pied a  small  cottage  in  the  village  square  of  Siller- 
ton.  ITer  husband,  the  only  Seceder,  we  believe,  in 
the  parish,  we  mean  apart  from  a  few  members  of 
the  Episcopal  Church,  was  wont  on  winter  evenings 
to  wend  his  way  after  supper  to  the  house  of  a 
neighbor,  where  politics  and  religion  were  freely 
discussed.  Jean  was  thus  pretty  much  left  to  her 
own  devices  during  the  evening,  and  she  employed 
her  time  thoroughly.    I  see  that  kitchen  now,  just 


,« 


JANE  BAlWEy,^  MILK  FOR  UAH  EH. 


93 


as  I  used  to  see  it  fifty  yeai's  ^v^^^,  Theie  is  only  fiii 
earthen  floor,  and  apart  from  the  dim  light  that  is 
supplied  by  half  adozensnioulderhig  peats,  the  only 
attempt  at  lighting  the  humble  apartment  is  by  a 
splinter  of  tir  loot  stuck  in  a  link  of  the  crook  or 
chain  tliat  hangs  in  the  chimney,  and  as  one  of  these 
primitive  candles  is  consumed,  another  is  lighted 
and  put  in  its  place. 

As  if  by  concert,  at  a  certain  hour  every  evening, 
the  youngsters  of  the  village  congregate  in  Jean's 
kitchen.  The  few  stools  and  benches,  or  deeces, 
more  properly  called,  that  v»^ere  distributed  round 
the  kitchen  are  soon  filled  by  the  expectant  crowd. 
But  I  had  almost  forgotten  the  seat  of  honor  on 
these  occasioiis.  This  was  at  the  two  opposite  sides 
of  the  capacious  chimney  which  stretched  half  across 
the  gable  of  the  house,  and  where  three  or  four 
urchins  could  easily  find  both  snug  and  ample  quar- 
ters. These  seats  were,  however,  difficult  to  obtain, 
and  wei'e  for  two  reasons  much  sought  after  by 
the  audience.  The  first  reason  was,  that  on  a  cold 
winter  night,  there  was  a  warmth  there  not  to  be 
found  in  any  other  i)art  of  the  house,  and  the  second 
was  (we  will  own  a  somewhat  peculiai'on*^)  that  the 
occupants  of  tliese  seats  could  not  be  attacked  from 
the  rear,  and  no  matter  what  happened,  they  were 
comparatively  safe  in  that  quarter. 


i; 


i'    i 


^1 


\'r 


■  1 


u 

It;; 

''it 


94 


SCOTTISU  FOLK-LORE. 


Jean  Barden  sits  on,  or  ratlier  in,  one  of  these  huge 
wooden  four-poster  chairs  that  have  become  fash- 
ionable .again,  but  now  wearing  brighter  colors 
than  tlieir  more  homely  prototype.  Without  any 
preliminary  remarks  whatever,  Jean  commences  her 
tale  of  the  evening,  and  with  little  or  no  interruption, 
except  from  a  renewal  of  a  light  that  had  burned 
out,  or  on  account  of  a  chip  of  fir  that  had  accident- 
ally fallen  down,  the  tale  goes  on  for  at  least  an 
hour  and  a  half. 

At  this  distant  date,  I  could  not  restore,  so  to  speali, 
one  story  that  Jean  ever  told,  but  there  are  certainly 
pieces  of  many  of  them  that  still  cling  tenaciously 
to  the  memory.  Just  read  over  the  liorrors  that 
Tam  O'Shanter  saw  in  Alloa  Kirk,  and  you  will  have 
a  fair  idea  of  the  species  of  literature  on  which  wq 
feasted  on  those  wintry  nights. 

One  evening  we  had  a  ghost  story  in  all  its  weird 
associations ;  a  ghost  that  came  and  went  like  a 
gleam  of  light;  some  unquiet  spirit  perhaps  that 
left  the  earth  with  some  momentous  secret  upon  its 
soul,  and  that  was  permitted  to  revisit  scenes  with 
which  it  was  once  familiar  in  the  flesh,  in  order  to 
communicate  what  it  knew  to  some  one  bold  enough 
to  demand  its  errand. 

At  another  time  we  had  stories  connected  with 
troublous  times  when  fire  and  sword  swept  even  the 


JANE  BAR  I)  EN'S  MILK  FOIl  BABES. 


95 


peaceful  Garioch;  while  occurrences  of  the  "45" 
were  reproduced,  but  all  tinged  with  those  shades 
of  coloring  that  Jean's  skilful  hand  knew  so  well 
how  to  apply. 

Then,  again,  we  had  tlie  account  of  somedi'eadfnl 
murder  that  had  once  been  coinmitted  witliin  Hk; 
bounds.  The  circumstances  are  all  laid  befoi'eus; 
the  culprit  is  described  and  produced  in  Court;  the 
trial  takes  place  once  more ;  the  prisoner  is  found 
guilty ;  the  judge  puts  on  the  terrible  black  cap  of 
doom  ;  the  ghastly  gallows  appears,  and  the  tragedy 
ends  with  probably  a  few  verses  of  a  melancholy 
song  that  the  unhappy  man  is  supposed  to  have  com- 
posed on  the  very  morning  of  his  execution,  some- 
thing, in  fact,  finding  a  counterpart  in  the  Banff 
freebooter  who 


i6  i 


i.,\ 

'-';! 


it 

;  to; 


* 

A  , 

J,  -i 

\  *!1 


"  Played  a  tune  and  danced  it  roun' 
Beneath  the  gallows-tree." 

As  to  robberies,  they  were  numerous  "  as  leaves 
in  Vallombrosa,"  and  had  comparatively  little  inter- 
est unless  some  one  was  shot  or  knifed  on  the  oc- 
casion. In  fact,  things  of  the  ordinary  class  had  no 
charms  for  us.  Of  dismal  love-stories  also  there 
were  not  a  few,  and  in  all  these  cases  the  course 
never  did  run  smooth.  Stern  fathers  and  unfeeling 
mothers  arose  to  forbid  the  banns ;  there  were  in- 


it 


t 


■;/H 


f|: 


1 


; 


'lit 


96 


SCOTTISH  FOL K-LOllE. 


sni>erablc  dinicultiL's  tliiit  conhl  not  begot  over, and 
in  cnjise(j[iieiiue,  wo  luul  ;i  whole  school  of  "Millo' 
Tiftie's  Annies,"  nnd  too  frequently  the  conclusion 
poured  foith  the  melancholy  wail — 

-.  "  My  true  love  died  for  me  to-day  ; 
I'll  die  for  liini  to-morrow." 

In  f;ict  Jeiin's  clKunber  of  horrors  would  not  have 
yielded  to  that  of  Mudaiiie  Tussaud,  and  was  dif- 
ferent only  in  this,  tluit  the  wax  figure  a[>i)ealed 
simply  to  the  eye,  and  was  dumb,  while  JeaiTs  bril- 
liant imagination  not  only  placed  the  individuals 
before  the  mental  eve,  but  made  each  one  tell  liis 
own  tale.  Truly  the  di-y  boiies  that  Jean  I>arden 
laid  before  us  did  not  long  remain  such.  There  was 
soon  a  shaking  amongst  them,  and  under  her  magic 
touch,  they  became  clothed  anew  with  all  the  out- 
ward api)earances  of  animated  life,  and  speedily 
fovuid  living  tongues  to  record  once  more  their  own 
experiences. 

There  was  also  one  peculiarity  about  many  of 
Jean's  ghost  stories  that  gave  them  an  interest  that 
we  could  not  otherwise  have  so  keenly  felt;  they 
were  localized  and  connected  with  places  that  we  :«li 
knew  well.  In  fact,  there  were  few  lonely  phices  in 
the  parish  without  sojne  brownie,  or  fairy,  or  hoodie 
of  evil  odor  associated  with  it. 


JANE  liAHDEy'S  MILK  FOR  liAIilJS. 


0- 


And  there  we  sat  and  shivered,  and  listened  willi 
rapt  attention  while  the  story  sped  on  its  w;iy ; 
listened  with  mouths  and  eyes  widely  opened  to 
drink  in  all  the  absorbing  details ;  listened  with  a 
growing  terror  in  our  hearts  at  what  might  be,  for 
all  we  knew,  very  near  ourselves.  And  when  the 
last  word  was  spoken,  and  Jean,  rising  from  her 
lecture  chair,  waved  us  to  the  door  with  the  some- 
what abrupt  good  night — "  Noo,  bairns,  aff  to  bed," 
we  scampered  off  like  a  flock  of  frightened  sheep. 
Xone  of  us  had  very  far  to  go,  but  short  as  was  the 
distance  that  intervened  between  Jean  Barden's 
kitchen  and  my  father's  house,  I  woiUd  rather  have 
run  the  gauntlet  between  two  lines  of  Indian  braves, 
than  traverse  the  few  yards  that  I  had  to  cover  till 
I  reached  my  own  door.  I  fancied  that  there  was  a 
perfect  host  of  malignant  spirits  behind  me,  with 
no  running  stream  to  bar  pursuit.  And  so  it  hap- 
pened, that  as  the  paternal  door  closed  behind  me, 
I  felt,  only  then,  that  I  could  breathe  again  in 
safety. 

The  question,  indeed,  might  be  asked,  "But  why 
listen  to  stories  that  produced  such  disagreeable 
consequences  ;  why  go  when  the  returning  was  ac- 
companied by  such  terrors  as  might  have  well  kept 
us  at  home?"  Alas  !  gentle  reader,  is  it  then  hard 
to  find  an  answer  ?  Look  at  that  poor  bewildered 
7 


I 


. 


II 


,1 


(' 


,ii 


:| 


■  '1 


l.'iffii' 


If 

If!  si  if 

Ml 

ii 


H 


\V 


U    ,i 


;     f; 


moth  circling  nearer  and  nearer  the  flame  that  at 
last  consumes  its  beauteous  wings,  and  leaves  it 
scorched  and  helpless  on  the  ground  to  die.  And 
has  it  never  happened  in  your  own  experience,  that 
you  have  felt  just  like  that  scorched  moth — not  while 
you  were  circling  round  your  alluring  light,  but 
when — wings  and  hope  all  gone — you  felt  scorched 
and  helpless  ? 

We  may  not  press  the  question  further,  for  we 
well  know  what  the  answer  should  be,  were  the 
truth — the  simple  truth — the  whole  truth  told. 

And  so  with  us  poor  youngsters.  There  was  a 
glamour  about  Jean  Barden  and  her  stories  that  we 
could  not  resist,  and  night  after  night,  and  week 
after  week  did  we  listen,  until  they  became  part  and 
parcel  of  ourselves.  And  what  was  the  conse- 
quence? There  was  not  a  youth  amongst  us  that 
would  have  gone  through  the  Home  Park,  or  the 
Howe  o'  Coghard,  after  nightfall,  could  he  by  so 
doing  have  earned  his  weight  in  gold.  Had  we  told 
ivt  home  all  that  we  had  heard,  it  might  have  been 
very  different,  but  we  evidently  kept  all  this  to  our- 
selves. At  the  same  time,  in  those  days,  there  was 
little  censorship  exercised  over  tales  told  in  the 
kitchen,  and  very  probably  there  would  have  been 
no  alarm  at  the  result,  even  hud  the  whole  been 
known. 


I 


JANE  BARDEN  'S  MILK  FOB  BABES. 


00 


! 


I  shall  now  step  into  the  witness-box,  and  to  sliow 
the  unwholesonieness  of  suoh  milk  as  Jean  ladled 
out  to  the  youngsters  of  Sillerton,  I  sliall  honestly 
relate  what  I  experienced  on  the  very  first  trip  that 
I  made,  after  nightfall,  and  alone.  I  had  l)een  prom- 
ised a  pair  of  "  Bantams,"  by  a  farmer  living  some- 
where beyond  Pitcaplr— that  is  to  say,  about  fifteen 
miles  from  Sillerton.  On  a  bright  summer  morning 
during  the  harvest  holidays  I  saddled  my  pony, 
strapped  on  my  back  a  suitable  basket,  and  started 
for  the  home  of  my  Bantams,  the  name  of  which 
place  I  have  forgotten.  I  reached  the  farm  all  right, 
but  every  one  was  engaged  in  liarvest  work  in  the 
distant  fields,  and  so  it  happened  that  befoie  I  got 
my  Bantams  in  my  basket,  and  I  was  duly  mounted 
on  Donald's  back,  the  sun  had  gone  down  and  dark 
shadows  were  stealing  along  the  sides  and  slopes  of 
Bennachie. 

There  was  not  much  very  startling  in  this,  but  as 

I  trotted  on,  the  shadows  grew  darker,  until  I  found 

that  I  had  to  find  my  way  home  over  a  good  dozen 

Scotch  miles,  and  in  the  dark.    This  was  my  first 

experience  of  such  a  trial,  and  I  certainly  felt  it. 

When  I  arrived  at  Gaudy  Ford,  the  river  seemed  to 

me  to  have  risen  since  T  passed  during  the  day,  and 

there  was;i'' iif)\^^  o.f;ni&liiii{J^iwvyters  tUat  kept  me 

'  ,''■*'■     • '    '  '   ' '  i  .' '  •  ,  •      ,'  ' ' 
pondering  'oft '  fliy  *  bank •  for  «orti&  tmio.*    At  last, 


•  • 


•  ♦   •  •  I  • 

•  •  •  I    • 

<••  •••  t  • 


.        '      •  •    • 

•,       »  .    .  .    .' 

I  >      •  I    •  I 


I 


i 


I 


il 


:\ 


•I 


m 


III! 


!■! 


•I 


i 


-,-•-., ^^  .trttl   I   H1^ 


100 


scorns II  FOLK-LORE, 


however,  realizing  the  fact  that  honit;  lay  beyond 
the  ford,  and  recollecting  that  Donald  could  swim 
well,  and  so  could  his  master,  I  pushed  on  and 
tlirough,  and  found  that  the  stillness  of  night  and 
the  deep  gloom  had  both  combined  to  make  thi.igs 
look  worse  than  they  actually  were. 

Gaudy  crossed  and  left  behind,  new  troubles  and 
fresh  horrors  came.  The  road  passe<l  along  tiie 
base  of  Bennachie,  and  in  many  places,  as  I  came 
nearer  Sillerton,  I  mean  the  boundaiies  of  the  parisii, 
it  was  approached  on  both  sides  by  deep  woods  tiiat 
sometimes  completely  overshadowed  it.  Then  there 
were  unearthly,  uncanny  sounds  that  fell  harshly 
upon  the  ear ;  the  roe  deer  would  occasionally  make 
a  startled  run  from  approaching  footsteps,  and  tbe 
short  yap  of  the  disturbed  fox,  as  he  scurried  across 
the  road,  had  a  most  depressing  effect  upon  my 
spirits.  Courage  I  had  almost  said,  but  no  :  all  tlie 
courage  I  once  had  had  oozed  out.  It  required  a 
supreme  effort  of  tiie  will  to  enable  me  to  make  any 
progress  whatever,  even  under  the  most  ordinary 
circumstances,  and  wlien  more  than  ordinary  dan- 
gers seemed  near — well,  then,  a  shake  of  the  basket 
which  started  a  cackle  of  the  fowls  huddled  within 
it,  and  a  quiet  but  fervent  repetition  of  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  gavtf  li>e  teilewed  strength  and  l>ac^l)one,  and 
I  trotted  on. '       '    '  " 


•   V      •     '    I  < 


'-•4  • 


'»■  r- 


*  ■  ■« 


.  .     .     ♦  J       . 


."S 


.lANr:  liAJiDENS  MILK  FOll  liAltKS, 


101 


I  • 


Tlie  Howe  o'  Coghard  was  my  la  .  painful  experi- 
ence on  lliat  eventful  journey.  Jean  l>;ii(len  had 
shown  a  special  favor  for  this  place,  and  brownies, 
witches,  and  warlocks— ghosts  with  heads  and  with- 
out them  were  there — sighs  and  sounds  that  seemed 
to  come  from  another  world  were  often  heard  there, 
and  in  fact  a  finer  field  for  awe-inspiring,  gruesome 
influences  could  scarcely  be  imagined.  I  felt  all 
this  keenly.  The  horrible  stories  associated  with 
the  place  all  rushed  back  upon  a  memory  that  was 
perhaps  on  this  occasi«m  too  retentive,  and  cau- 
tiously I  drew  bridle  before  plunging  into  the  dismal 
shades  of  Coghard. 

The  evening  was  now  far  spent.  My  progress 
had  been  unusually  slow,  as  I  had  literally  to  often 
feel  my  way,  and  over  and  above  the  darkness  of 
an  autumn  moonless  night,  there  was  an  unpleasant 
sough  among  the  tree-tops  that  threatened  rain. 
There  was,  however,  no  help  for  it.  I  would  have 
sooner  joined  a  forlorn  hope,  and  stormed  a  deadly 
breach,  than  ride  that  night  through  the  Howe  o' 
Coghard,  but  yet  my  home  in  Sillerton  was  beyond. 

How  that  basket  rattled  on  my  back,  how  the 
Bantams  cackled  and  protested,  and  how  fervently 
my  prayers  were  said,  I  cannot  tell  now,  but  with 
the  encouragement  derived  from  both,  and  a  more 
than  usually  liberal  use  of  the  heel  upon  Donald, 


U, 


i : 


^, » 


102 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


;.! 


the  Howe  was  speedily  and  safely  passed,  and  I  soon 
thereafter  found  myself  in  the  village  of  Sillerton. 

The  same  sensations  I  never  again  experienced. 
I  was  during  that  solitary  ride  almost  cured  of  my 
superstitious  weaknesses ;  Jean  Barden's  teachings 
were,  by  a  supreme,  perhaps  heroic  effort,  ignomin- 
iously  cast  aside,  and  I  then  learned  to  laugh  at 
terrors,  that  have  ere  now  turned  some  black  heads 
almost  instantaneously  white. 

Jean,  we  doubt  not,  was  honest  in  her  convictions, 
as  far  as  they  went,  and  plied  her  art  to  the  end  of 
life,  and  doubtless  was  often  thanked  for  the  amuse- 
ment she  afforded  the  youngsters.  I  must  say, 
however,  for  myself,  that  had  I  learned  that  any 
one  had  been  indoctrinating  my  own  young  bar- 
barians with  such  poison  as  I  had  personally  sucked 
in  Jean  Barden's  fir-lighted  kitchen  in  the  village 
of  Sillerton  fifty  years  ago,  I  would  have  said  with 
the  genial  author  of  the  "Ewie  wi'  the  Crookit 
Horn"— 

♦'  O !  gin  I  had  the  loun  that  did  it, 
Sworn  I  hae,  as  well  as  said  it, 
Tho'  a  '  the  warld  should  forbid  it, 
I  wadgiehisnecka  thraw."    , 


■^ 


^i^'.. 


THE  POOR  PlilOn  TO  T^^K  POOR  LAWS.     103 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE   POOR  PRIOR   TO   THE   POOR  LAWS. 


^ 


*•  For  ye  have  the  poor  with  you  always." 

St.  Mark,  xiv.,  7. 

Before  Poor  Laws  were  enacted,  there  existed  a 
very  primitive  state  of  things  as  to  those  who  wei-e 
denominated  the  poor.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that 
there  were  really  no  paupers,  but  poverty,  at  least 
in  country  places,  aid  not  appear  very  oppressive. 

Most  people  put  forth  an  effoi't  to  aid  in  support- 
ing their  poor  relations  ;  tlie  Kirk-Session  sent,  per 
the  hands  of  the  elders,  a  quarterly  dole  of  a  few 
shillings  to  gladder  the  hearts  of  the  aged  recipients ; 
occasionally  there  were  chnrities  that  provided  a 
pittance  for  the  deserving  poor,  and  almost  always, 
there  were  mill?  and  meal,  and  jieiliaps  a  few  things 
besides,  that  found  their  way  from  the  farmhouse 
to  the  humble  abodes  of  those  who,  in  some  re- 
spects, like  the  Russian  serf,  seemed  to  belong  to 
the  soil. 

It  should  be  mentioned,  also,  that  on^  or  two 


Jf: 


h\ 


(  IV. 


i 


I  III 


104 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


4  i 


i| 


('     ! 


channels  there  were,  in  addition  to  the  means  already 
stated,  by  which  the  old  and  indigent  could  eke  out 
their  somewhat  contracted  living,  so  that  altogether 
the  inevitably  poor  could  aianage  to  get  the  two  ends 
to  meet. 

This  chapter  is  headed  "  The  Poor  prior  to  the  Poor 
Laws."  This  heading  is  selected  advisedly,  since 
my  acquaintance  with  tlie  poor,  under  tlie  new 
system,  dated  several  years  later — in  fact,  after  I 
had  left  college.  That  these  laws  were  necessary 
there  can  be  no  doubt,  but  as  little  doubt  is  there, 
thai,  by  their  operation,  a  change  for  the  worse  was 
produced  in  the  minds  of  the  Scottish  peasantry,  and 
that  honest  pride,  that  stinted  itself  to  keep  a  poor 
relative  from  becoming  a  charge  on  the  parish, 
entirely  died  away,  and,  instead,  the  more  matter-of- 
fact  feeling  crept  in — "If  I  pay  my  public  rates, 
then  my  private  charity  ceases." 

With  this  brief  explanation  of  the  reason  why  I 
circumscribe  my  acquaintance  with  those  requiring 
charity,  I  shall  at  once  proceed  with  the  subject 
more  immediately  before  me,  and  show  how  much 
or  bow  little  I  knew  of  the  poor  of  Sillerton, 
before  the  Poor  Laws  were  enacted  for  their 
benefit. 

In  close  proximity  to  several  of  the  large  farms, 
there  were  one  or  two  cottages  occupied  by  aged 


4 


f« 


it 


I 


■4- 


1 


« 


THE  POO  It  PRIOR  TO  TilK  POOR  LAWS.     105 

people,  who  had,  perhaps,  in  younger  days,  been  em- 
ployed as  laborers  on  Uio  fariii.  Did  I  say 
"ccjUagesV"  Well,  that  would  ])e  a  misnomer. 
These  dwellings  were  huts  of  the  most  primitive 
character,  built  of  rough  stones  and  sods,  com- 
pacted together  somehow;  thatched  with  straw  or 
heather,  and  with  a  floor  made  of  clay  that  hiid 
received  nnich  the  same  treatment  it  would  have  got 
in  a  brick-yard,  with  the  exception  of  the  baking  pro- 
cess, which,  in  this  case,  was  never  applied,  the  feet 
of  the  occupjints  and  the  footsteps  of  time  being 
deemed  sufficient  to  render  this  primitive  flooi-  fit 
for  the  purpose  it  was  intended  to  soive.  Tliere 
was  generally  but  one  bole,  or  small  window,  look- 
ing out  to  the  south;  two  windows  IxMug  in  order 
when  the  dwelling  boasted  a  "  but  and  ,'i  ben." 

There  was  no  ceiling  in  these  simple  abodes, 
and  the  wood  or  peat  fires  that  burned  upon  large 
slab-stones  that  formed  the  hearth  produced  a  smoke 
that  curled  gracefully  among  the  blackened  rafters, 
until  it  found  its  way  out  by  a  hole  in  the  roof,  that 
could  scarcely  be  called  by  the  respectiible  name  of 
a  chimney,  but  which,  at  the  same  time,  did  duty 
for  that  excellent  institution. 

I  do  not  mean  to  insiiuiate  in  the  slightest  degree 
that  these  huts  were  not  comfortable,  and  tiiat  their 
occupants  were  not  quite  contented  with  them ;  but 


1 


4 


■  1  i   ,  , 


^ 


I!: 


'I  I 


1 


106 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LOBE. 


hf 


;^ 


k 


i; 


l! 


4\\ 


<  , 


they  certainly  had  their  drawbacks.  In  certain  con- 
ditions of  the  weather  the  smoke  seemed  to  get  be- 
wildered, and  could  not  find  its  way  to  the  usual 
place  of  exit,  but  then  the  occupants,  like  the  tradi- 
tional eels,  were  used  to  this  pyroligneous  tribula- 
tion, thougli  I  honestly  confess  that,  to  one  unac- 
customed to  it,  it  would  have  been  simply  intolerable. 

An  old  friend  in  Canada,  who  had  amassed  a 
lai'ge  fortune,  told  me  that  he  had  once  taken  a  holi- 
day to  go  and  visit  his  aged  mother,  who  lived  near 
the  banks  of  the  Spey.  He  was  most  anxious  to 
spend  a  few  days  with  the  old  lady,  but  was  literally 
driven  out  of  the  house  by  the  smoke,  and  had  to 
take  up  his  quarters  in  the  hotel  at  Carr-Bridge, 
whence  he  could  make  occas  -lal  trips  to  visit  her. 
Willingly  would  he  have  built  a  chimney,  but  the 
old  woman  demurred.  That  would  have  been  an 
innovation  that  would  have  completely  upset  all  her 
arrangements,  and  the  son  left  his  aged  parent  con- 
tented to  live  and  die  in  the  smoke. 

Speaking  of  smoke  in  Scotland  reminds  me  of  an 
incident  that  once  happened  in  Canada  to  a  couple 
of  officers  of  the  Royal  Engineers  and  your  humble 
servant,  tnen  officiating  chaplain  for  that  distin- 
guished corps,  and  on  which  occasion  smoke  played  a 
conspicuous  part.  We  had  gone,  during  the  bleak 
and  stormy  month  of  January,  to  shoot,  "  promiscu- 


\ , 


THE  POOH  PlllOli  TO  THE  POOH  LAWS.    107 


>  i 


ously,"  I  may  call  it,  in  that  primeval  forest  of  yel- 
low [)ine  that  then  mantled  the  banks  of  the  Chaii- 
(liere,  and  in  which  there  then  existed  a  paradise 
both  for  the  sportsman  and  for  the  lumberman. 

We  were  the  guests  of  a  member  of  the  latter 
class,  and  spent  three  or  four  days,  I  should  rather 
say  nights,  in  one  of  his  camps,  which  was  built  in 
what  was  once  the  hunting-grounds  of  the  Abena- 
quais  Indians,  of  whom  only  one  family  lived  now 
in  all  that  region. 

That  we  were  comfortable  generally  goes  without 
saying.  The  old  cook  had  once  worn  Her  Majesty's 
uniform,  and  his  heart  warmed  when  he  found  that 
his  guests  were  of  the  militant  profession,  whether 
clerical  or  otherwise,  and  every  effort  was  put  forth 
to  render  us  as  comfortable  as  gastronomic  art  could 
make  us. 

If  pork  and  beans,  the  other  luxuries  that  are  to 
be  found  in  a  lumber  camp,  and  the  ordinary  et- 
ceteras that  we  brought  along  with  us,  could  make 
mortals  happy,  we  had  been  happy  indeed.  But  the 
Bubbly  Jock  was  there,  even  in  that  primitive  camp. 
The  large  "  caboose  "  that  occupied  the  centre  of 
the  shanty  would  persist  in  sending  jets  of  smoke 
indiscriminately  to  every  corner  of  the  camp. 

Had  it  been  summer,  and  had  the  mosquitoes  and 
other  pests  that  then  hold  high  holiday  in  Canadian 


IN 


11,'  r, 

if.: 


I  1/ 


',:.!' 


'i>.    t. 


4.1 

$ 


m 


!   I 


108 


scorns II  folk-lore. 


}  -li 


iv 


woods  been  in  force,  we  might  have  submitted  with 
ii  good  grace  to  the  smudge  tliat  was  constantly  ai;d 
ruthlessly  permeating  our  whole  system.  We  held 
a  council  of  war ;  our  highest  scientific  skill  was 
brought  into  play  to  devise  a  cure  for  the  smoke 
nuisance,  and  after  mature  deliberation  we  felt  that 
we  could  successfully  grapple  with  and  conquer  our 
enemy. 

So  far,  so  well.  Peter  Farley,  the  cook,  was  in- 
vited to  join  our  caucus.  He  was  shown  the  method 
we  proposed  to  employ,  to  get  rid  of  the  vile  smoke 
that  was  gradually  lessening  the  distance  between 
us  and  the  noble  red  man,  and  we  dreamt  in  imagi- 
nation— so  fondly  dreamt — of  a  few  hours  of  serene, 
unclouded  happineess  in  that  camp,  and  in  our  ex- 
uberance of  joy  we  asked  Farley  if  we  had  not  com- 
pletely solved  the  difficulty. 

Peter  not  for  one  moment  hesitated.  In  his  mind 
the  smoke  question  had  been  long  solved,  and  it  gav(* 
him  no  trouble  whatever  to  unfold  his  opinion  on 
the  matter.  "  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  the  ex-privalo 
01  Her  Majesty's  16th  Foot,  and  now  chief  cook  of 
Grande  Roche  Camp,  "  we  are  not  in  England,  and 
if  you  cure  the  smoke,  there  is  no  saying  but  that 
:.3  ne  of  the  boys  may  find  fault  with  the  cooking." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  oracular  response, 
!•  i  dey  left  us  to  our  own  meditations,  and  quickly  dis- 


THE  POOH  PRIOR  TO  TUE  POOR  LAWS.     109 


appeared  in  the  commingling  cloud  of  smoke  and 
steam  that  whirled  and  floated  around  and  above  tlie 
blazing  caboose.  It  was  very  evident  to  us  that  thero 
were  other  things  that  troubled  more  the  anxious 
cook  than  the  vile  pyroligneous  acid  that  miglit  pinch 
the  eyes  or  excite  the  choler  of  his  sorrowful  guests, 
who  verily  had  been  gradually  developing  into  a 
species  of  human  "  weeping  willows." 

Our  fate  was  undoubtedly  sealed;  from  Peter's 
judgment  there  was  no  appeal.  Another  twenty- 
four-hours'  rubbing  in  of  this  "  Indian  tan  "  would 
make  us  as  yellow  as  the  mocassins  that  we  wore, 
and  we  simply  bent  to  tlie  inevitable.  The  very 
rapid  depletion  of  our  cigar-cases  within  the  next 
half-hour,  and  the  dense  volume  of  tobacco-smoke 
that  rose  above  us  and  gradually  joined  issue  with 
the  mightier  cloud  into  which  Farley  had  incon- 
tinently disappeared,  might  have  easily  convinced 
the  most  sceptical  unbeliever,  that  the  guests  of  the 
genial  proprietor  of  Grand  Roche  Camp  were  firm 
believers  in  the  great  maxim  of  the  homoeopath ists 
—  Similia  similihus  curantur  —  "Likes  are  cured 
by  likes." 

To  return  to  our  Sillerton  poor  and  their  smoky 
dwellings,  we  may  remark,  that,  if  they  disregarded 
the  smoke,  they  were  equally  callous  with  regard  to 
the  question  of  light.     In  fact,  there  came  less  light 


^"'1 


h 


it* 

I  m  I 


li: 


iX 


\4 
i" 


!i 


no 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


t 


;i  •: ' 


!;■ 


frr)m  the  iniiii;iture  window  thiin  from  the  peat  fire 
tli;it  smouldered  on  the  hearth.  But  yet  tlie  occu- 
\)  ints  were  contented  therewith  ;  they  did  not  really 
loquirc  much  light;  their  duties  inside  were  not  of 
such  a  nature  as  to  require  the  glare  of  an  electric 
fifty-candle-power  carbon -burner,  and  if  additional 
light  were  necessary,  it  could  readily  be  produced 
i!i  a  decidedly  primitive  way,  namely,  by  sticking  a 
lighted  fir-spunk  in  a  link  of  the  crook  that  hung 
over  the  fireplace.  In  fact,  they  objected  on  prin- 
ciple to  the  enlargement  of  their  windows. 

On  one  occasion,  along  with  my  father,  I  visited 
an  old  man  who  lived  somewhere  near  the  old  house 
of  Tillyfour  in  such  a  hut  as  I  have  described. 

James  Marnoch  was  then  upwards  of  a  hundred 
years  of  age,  but  still  retained  all  his  faculties,  and 
was  quite  al)le  to  care  in  every  way  for  himself. 
In  James's  hut  there  was  no  window  whatever,  and 
all  the  light  of  heaven  he  received,  he  did  so  on  the 
outside  of  his  biggin',  or  in  a  subdued  form  down 
the  chimney. 

The  Lady  of  Sillerton  took  much  kindly  interest 
in  the  poor  of  the  parish,  and  provided  many  a  little 
comfort  for  them  that  came  in  handy  during  the 
cold  months  of  w'-iter.  Marnoch  was  one  of  her 
favorites,  and  generally  received  a  visit  trom  his 
b3nefactress  occasionally  during  the  summer. 


\> 


-^-^ 


TUE  POOR  PRIOR  TO  TUK  POOR  LAWii.     HI 


i> 


Liite  in  autumn  she  left  for  Engliiiul,  but  before 
leaving,  usually  constituted  my  father  her  ahnoner, 
and  to  him  entrusted  whatever  she  had  provided  for 
her  numerous  pensioners,  accompanied  oftentimes 
with  kindly  messages,  and  hopeful  wishes  for  their 
welfare. 

To  Marnoch,  on  this  occasion,  were  handed  sun- 
dry parcels  containing  clothing,  tea,  sugar,  and  many 
small  yet  necessary  articles  besides.  To  deliver 
these  was  an  easy  matter,  but  I  observed  that  my 
father  had  evidently  something  else  to  communicate, 
but  apparently  he  had  some  difficulty  in  broaching 
it.  At  last,  out  it  came.  lie  had  received  in- 
structions to  get  a  window  placed  in  the  hut,  as  an 
improvement  that  his  benefactress  doubtless  thought 
would  be  heartily  appreciated  by  the  centenarian. 

My  father  had  doubts  on  that  subject,  and  these 
were  speedily  confirmed.  Marnoch  expressed  his 
grateful  thanks  for  all  the  kindness  received,  but 
positively  refused  to  accept  the  window.  He  had 
got  accustomed  to  the  light  that  came  in  by  open 
door,  or  chimney,  and  more  light  would  be  dis- 
agreeable to  him,  and,  in  addition  to  this,  the  open- 
ing of  a  space  for  the  proposed  improvement  might 
admit  the  cold  as  well  as  the  light.  James  Marnoch 
lived  and  died  in  that  hut,  but  no  window  was  ever 
inserted  in  its  wall. 


^ifi 


'X 


lil 


,6 

ill 


l'\ 


i'i 


• 


:• 


11 


L 


y  I : 


im) 


{ i 


;t 


!   I 


I 


'■1 


M 


!i 
'ii 

i 
I 


112 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


One  source  of  earning  a  few  sliillin;j;;s  now  juicl  tlien 
Ciiine  to  tliose  poor  creatures,  ;it  least  to  the  women, 
in  the  way  of  knitting  stockings  and  otlier  olotliing. 
There  was  always  a  demand  for  such  articles 
amongst  a  cl  iss,  that  had  neither  the  inclination  iitr 
perhaps  the  ime  to  do  such  work,  and  where  t'.ie 
small  chi»rge  made  was  certainly  a  temptation  to  get 
the  knitthig  done  elsewhere  than  at  home.  Uui 
beyond  the  local  trade,  if  I  might  so  call  it,  there 
was  a  larger  trade  that  found  abundant  employment 
for  such  as  were  able  and  willing  to  work. 

An  agent  for  some  manufacturing  firm,  or  firms, 
made  periodical  visits  to  Sillerton,  on  which  occa- 
sions he  sui)plied  his  knitters  with  yarn,  and  at  the 
same  time  received  from  them  the  articles  finished 
since  his  former  visit.  It  is  true  that  very  small 
prices  were  allowed  for  such  work,  but  yet  what 
they  received  was  to  them  a  sort  of  "  Godsend,"  and, 
after  all,  the  work  required  made  but  little  demand 
upon  their  time,  and,  in  fact,  it  often  appeared  to 
me  that  the  old  "  bodies  "  could  go  on  with  their 
knitting  under  any  circumstances,  and  without  any 
apparent  effort  whatever. 

It  is  at  least  worthy  of  remaik  that  no  one  pro- 
tested against  either  the  hardships  undergone  by  the 
aged  knitters  of  agency  goods,  nor  against  the  mea- 
greness  of  the  pay  received  for  the  work  done,  and 


iv 


; 


i 


\.- 


iHE  POOR  ritlOii  TO  TIlE  POOH  LAWS.     113 

certainly  no  Sillcrtoiii.in  Tliomas  Hood  arose  to 
awftken  the  torpcn*  of  the  rich  by  writing  or  singing 
"The  Song  of  the  Stocking."  At  all  events,  the 
amounts  received,  small  as  they  were,  doubtless  pro- 
cured a  few  of  those  creature  comfciT-ts  that  age  still 
permitted  them  to  enjoy. 

There  were  no  weavers  in  Sillerton,  but  in  some 
of  the  neighboring  parishes,  work  was  found  for 
this  class  much  in  the  same  way  as  was  done  in  the 
knitting  department.  Material  was  supplied  by  an 
agent,  and  the  cloth  returned  to  him  when  finished. 
It  occasionally  happened,  however, that,  forsome  fault 
in  the  weaving,  the  web  was  rejected,  and  the  value 
of  the  material  supplied  for  its  maimfacture  had  to 
be  refunded  by  the  unfortunate  weaver. 

I  shall  now  close  this  chapter  with  an  anecdote, 
the  gist  of  which  depends  upon  the  custom  above 
indicated.  One  day  a  well-known  medical  practi- 
tioner residing  in  the  ancient  burgh  of  Inverurie, 
while  going  his  rounds,  met  an  acquaintance,  a 
weaver,  who  was  returning  from  a  disagreeable  in- 
terview with  the  cloth  agent,  and  carrying  a  rejected 
web  under  his  arm.  The  doctor  was  not  aware  that 
Davio  had  made  a  failure,  and  cheerily  remarked, 
"Weel,  Davie,  are  ye  gain'  hame  wi'  yourwark?" 
Davie  fancied  that  the  question  was  a  piece  of  sar- 
casm on  the  doctor's  part,  and  owed  him  one  for  it. 
8 


1; 


!^!r 


i:  '■ '  V 
i     ^  ' 

i 


k 

' 

"      1 

1 

ll 

;•!' 


j] 


lU 


S(JorHi6U  tOLK-LOUE. 


An  opportunity  soon  offered.  A  patient  of  the 
doctor,  in  spite  of  all  that  science  and  care  liiid  done 
for  hiin,  went  the  way  of  all  flesli.  The  funeral 
cortege  was  passing  along  the  street  ou  tlie  way  to 
the  churchyard,  and  the  doctor  was  walking  behind 
the  hearse  witli  the  sorrowing  relatives.  Davie 
chanced  to  be  on  hand,  and  saw,  at  a  glance,  that  his 
opportunity  had  come.  Rushing  forward  to  tlie 
astonished  medical  practitioner,  he  bawled  out,  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  on  both  sides  of  the  street,  "  Weel, 
doctor,  are  ye  gain' hame  wi'  your  wark  ?"  putting 
great  emphasis  upon  the  possessive  pronoun. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  doctor  took  in  the 
situation,  and  enjoyed  it  accordingly,  and  sitting 
at  his  hospitable  table  years  afterwards,  I  had  the 
privilege  of  hearing  the  story  from  his  own  lips. 
From  the  doctor's  unqualified  merriment,  I  pre- 
sume that  he  was  satisfied,  in  his  own  mind,  that 
Davie's  sarcasm  was,  at  least  on  this  occasion, 
nnmerited. 


LICENSED  BEUGARS, 


115 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


u 


LICENSED  BEGGARS — THE    FATUOUS  AND  INSANE. 

Angels  and  ministers  of  grace  defend  us  ! 

Ilanilet. 

In  the  lust  chapter,  in  stating  what  I  knew  about 
the  poor  before  the  poor  hiws  were  enacted,  tliere 
was  no  mention  made  of  any  aristocracy  of  poverty 
in  Sillerton.  We  had  no  Edie  Ochiltrees  there,  no 
King's  Bedesmen,  no  Blue  Gowns — in  fact  no  one 
exercising  the  right  of  asking  charity  within  certain, 
or  perhaps  uncertain,  bounds. 

It  was  the  fact,  however,  that  there  were  individ- 
uals who  travelled  as  professional  beggars  through 
many  of  the  Aberdeenshire  parishes,and  who,  doubt- 
less, had  obtained  the  privilege  of  doing  so.  I  rec- 
ollect the  occasional  visits  to  our  village  of  two 
wanderhig  paupers.  One  was  called  Dickey  Daw, 
a  poor  harmless  idiot,  and  her  companion  was  a 
middle-aged  female  who  solicited  and  collected 
means  for  their  mutual  support. 

We  had  no  analogous  case  in  Sillerton,  but  such 
cases  did  exist  in  some  of  the  neighboring  j)arislies, 


m 


■!l 

■'^i 

1 
A 

U 

t 
^ 

1  ■ 
'1 

i3 

. 

'  '1 

.' 

'1 

1 

I, 

t 

; 

.a|. 

i 


116 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


''■    :\ 


') 


!  1 


and  I  have  in  my  possession  a  document,  issued  by 
the  kirk-session  of  Forbes,  which  will  clearly  enough 
show  thiit  such  were  perhaps  common  enough.  Tlie 
document  referred  to  is  as  follows : — 

These  testify  tliat  the  Bearer  hereof  Jean  Bay,  Sister  to 
Isobel  Bay,  Spouse  to  Arthur  Mitchell  in  the  Parisli  of 
Forbes  carries  along  with  her  Patrick  Mitchell  one  of  their 
children,  of  about  five  years  of  age,  altogether  deprived  of 
the  use  of  his  Reason  and  Faculties  of  his  Bod 3' ;  and  his 
Parents  bein,'^  reduced  to  Sh'aitning  Circumstances,  and 
haA'ing  other  t\vo  young  children  incapable  thro'  N<inage 
to  do  anything  for  themselves,  are  obliged  to  employ  the 
siiid  Jean  Bay  the  Child's  aunt  to  supplicate  and  beg  from 
charitable  and  well-disposed  Persons  for  the  said  helpless 
objects  Sustenance  and  Relief.  Therefore  the  Kirk-Session 
of  Forbes  did,  and  hereby  do,  earnestly  recommend  the 
said  Jean  Bay  to  the  Cliarity  of  all  w  ithin  the  united  Par- 
ishes of  Forbes  and  through  Biu'gh  and  Land,  for  her  own 
and  the  said  great  Objects  Relief  :  which  in  name  and  by 
appointment  of  the  said  Kirk-Session  is  attested  at  Forbes 
the  twenty-ninth  Day  of  December,  Ono  thousand  seven 
hundred  and  fifty-six,  by, 

Alexander  Orem  Moderator. 
Alford  Feb.  34th  1757. 

That  the  Bearer  the  above  named  Jean  Bay  is  really  an 
Objeci  of  Cliarity,  as  having  the  Burthen  of  the  above 
Arthur  Mitcliell's  Children  is  attested  by, 

Alexander  Johnston  Minist<?r  of  Alford, 
Patrick  Thomson  Minister  at  Tough, 
William  Milne  Minister  at  Kildrummie, 
Francis  Adam  Minister  ot  Cushny, 
Theodore  Gordon  Ministcn-  at  Kenethmont, 
Patrick  Reid  Minister  at  Clat. 


The  capital  letters,  commas,  etc.,  are  the  same  as 


LICENSED  BEGGARS. 


117 


in  the  original.  This  licence  to  beg  is  duly  printed 
on  a  tough,  dark-colored  paper,  and  very  distinctly 
sliows  tear  and  wear.  How  lonj;  it-  was  carried 
about  through  the  vale  of  Alford  and  surrounding 
(listriets  to  advance  the  claims  of  Patrick  Mitchell 
and  others  I  know  not;  either  the  imbecile  boy  or 
his  devoted  nurse  may  have  died  in  the  parish  of 
Sillerton,  and  the  certificate  alone  remained  to  show 
the  miserable  parochial  provision  existing  in  Scot- 
land in  the  yt'ar  of  grace  1750  for  her  fatuous  |x)or. 

Such  documents  are  still  issued  in  the  province 
of  Quel)ec,  but  lacking  generally  the  formality  of 
the  Scot(;h  one.  May  we  draw  the  inference,  that 
we  are  here,  in  some  things  at  least,  more  than  a 
century  behhid  the  civilization  of  Aberdeenshire? 
So  nuich,  then,  for  our  duly  accredited  poor. 

There  were,  however,  two  classes  besides,  who 
did  not  seem  to  dovetail  into  the  general  order  of 
things.  The  fatuous,  or  "feels,''  as  they  were 
genemlly  called,  but  not  imbeciles  like  Patrick 
Mitchell,  had  no  special  place  in  our  eleinosynary 
system,  and  led  a  somewhat  peculiar  life,  wander- 
ing from  place  to  place  in  search  of  their  daily 
bread. 

There  was  little  to  blara«  here,  as  generally  this 
class  was  not  by  any  means  dangerous,  and,  in  some 
slight  respect  gave,  in  the  amusement  they  afforded. 


1 


!j|! 


I 


^    !• 


'•  '. 


-i': 


I!  i 


* 


118 


scorn sn  folk-lore. 


i 


4i 


a  species  of  return  for  what  they  had  received,  while 
their  way  of  livin<j  entailed  little,  if  indeed  any, 
hardship  whatever. 

As  an  example  of  this,  there  was  one  individual 
of  tills  class,  one  par  excellence,  who  periodically 
visited  Sillerton,  "feel  Jamie  Nuckel,"  as  the  folks 
called  him.  I  fear  Jamie  was  more  rogue  than  fool, 
and  stood  head  and  shoulders,  in  cunning  and  per- 
liaps  intellect  of  some  kind,  over  his  wandering  con- 
freres. Jamie  had  a  most  retentive  memory,  and 
was  accustomed  to  repeat,  almost  verbatim,  sermons 
that  he  had  once  heard.  This  faculty  was  a  source 
of  unbounded  pleasure  to  the  farm-servants  on  a 
winter  evening,  whenever  Nuckel  made  his  appear- 
ance, and  the  reward  was  just  as  nnich  brose  as 
Jamie  could  get  under  his  belt. 

On  cme  occasion,  however,  his  prowess  in  brose- 
consuming  nearly  ended  in  disaster.  The  modicum 
of  brose  provided  for  him  was  something  almost  in- 
credible, and  Nuckel  broke  the  record.  But  he  also 
almost  broke  something  beside,  as  my  father's  men, 
who  had  given  the  dose  as  a  test  case,  had  to  roll 
the  glutton  on  the  floor  for  a  considerable  time 
before  he  was  considered  safe  from  an  ex[)losion 
that  might  have  proved  fatal. 

Jamie's  cry  on  this  occasion  was  very  touching, 
**  Row  me  or  I'll  rive,  boys."    He  was  rolled  most 


LICENSED  liEGdAHS, 


119 


effectually.  That  was  his  last  sermon  and  feast 
there,  for  orders  were  given — and  these  orders  had 
to  bo  obeyed — that  the  experiment  was  not  to  be 
repeated,  and  many  a  time  I  have  seen  him  as  he 
passed,  turning  a  longing  look  askance  at  the 
bothies  of  Fusselbare,  where  he  had  so  often  en- 
j  tyed  a  square  meal,  but  his  borrowed  eloqueiu'e 
was  no  longer  in  demand  in  that  quarter ;  the  meal, 
butter,  and  boiling  water  were  never  again  mixed 
for  him,  and  Fusselbare  knew  Xuckel  no  more. 

It  may  be  well  to  state  here  that  Xuckel  was  an 
exaggerated  specimen  of  what  the  Poor  Laws  would 
now  place  under  the  heading  of  "  fatuous,"  and 
that  there  were  many  different  varieties  of  the 
same  species,  ranging  from  the  unmitigated  idiot, 
to  individuals  who  wanted  only  "tippence  of  the 
shilling." 

It  is  a  matter  of  doubt  if  the  "  crank  "  might  not 
be  a  connecting  link,  and  if  he  might  not  be  accu- 
rately classed  between  the  feel  and  the  madman. 
It  is  no  matter  of  doubt,  however,  that  w^e  are  now 
getting  on  dangerous  ground,  and  that  a  return  to 
our  mutton  might  be  advisable. 

Of  those  who  scored  a  few  points  below  the 
oi'dinary  standard  of  full  reasoning  powers,  one, 
Sandy  Forbes,  carried  a  private  mail-bag,  to  and 
from  the  post-office  of  Sillerton.     It  would  be  ditti- 


A 


■Bi^i 


iL^O 


SCOTTlSfl  FOLK-LORE. 


I  '     I 


cult  to  specify  precisely  vvhiit  Sandy  wanted,  and  I 
might  l)e  better  understood  if  I  said,  "Just  a  little 
of  everything." 

15()th  in  body  and  mind  there  was  a  want.  One 
said  that  Sandy's  fingers  were  "a'  thooms; " 
another  Jisserted  that  he  scuttled  in  his  walk,  "  like 
a  fluke;"  and  unquestionably  lie  had  a  stutter  i!i 
his  speech.  As  to  his  mental  equipment,  tliere  was 
a  general  haziness  in  every  department.  And  yet 
Sandy  was  a  useful  enough  member  of  society.  He 
was  good-natured,  and  willing  to  work,  so  far  as 
his  capabilities  went. 

But  it  was  chiefly  as  postman  that  Sandy  was 
employed.  lie  not  only  carried  the  letters  to  and 
from  the  post-oflice,  which  was  also  the  village 
store,  but  he  was  universally  employed  along  the 
road  to  bring  small  purchases  with  him  on  his  re- 
turn. These  small  orders  amounted  sometimes  to 
a  very  great  number,  but  neither  cash  nor  orders 
embarrassed  him;  he  wrote  nothing  down,  and  yet 
goods  and  cash  were  always  right,  >\h}lc  no  order 
was  ever  under  any  circumstances  forgotten. 

Sometimes  it  happeried  that  Sandy  had  been  sent 
in  another  direction,  and  a  substitute  hiul  to  be  sent 
instead,  and  as  usual,  came  orders  and  cash  from 
everv  farmer  and  cottar's  wife  alon*'*  the  roadside. 
IJut  what  a  reckoning  was  there  0*1  the  return  trip! 


LICENSED  BEGGARS. 


121 


^ 


\ 


Oi-dera  were  entirely  forgotten,  or  changed,  or 
delivered  in  the  wrong  qusirter;  the  guidwife  of 
Pitfuffie  found  two  ounces  of  tobacco  where  slie  ex- 
pecte<l  the  same  quantity  of  tea ;  Johnny  Wright's 
snuff  turned  out  to  be  ground  ginger  that  was 
sorely  missed  by  a  dyspeptic  invalid  farther  on  the 
road,  who  received  a  pound  of  three-inch  nails  in- 
stead ;  and  in  no  case  could  the  cash  be  brought  to 
an  exact  balance. 

The  oidy  thing  that  did  really  seem  to  tally,  was 
the  universal  remark  mad(?  with  considerable  bitter- 
ness, l>ot  only  when  the  spurious  postman  had  got 
at  least  a  good  hundred  yards  away — "  I  wish  tiie 
peer  feel,  Sandy  Forbes,  had  gane  to  the  post  in- 
stead of  that  gype."  Here  again  nature  seemed 
once  more  to  make  up  in  one  direction  what  she 
had  withheld  in  another,  and  where  judgment  was 
sadly  deticient,  memory  was  supplied  with  a 
greater  liberality. 

I  am  here  reminded  of  an  anecdote  that  I  heard 
told  by  one  who  was  intimately  acquainted  with  the 
folk-lore  of  the  Garioch,  and  who  was  wont  to 
anmse  many  a  Sillerton  dinner-party  therewith. 
The  anecdote  rehited  to  a  family  connected  with 
the  parish,  and  showed  the  difficulty  that  some- 
times existed  of  determining  the  mental  condition 
of  an  individual. 


iir 

if 


4 


S9B 


122 


^SCOTTISH  FOLK-LOUE. 


%   I 


'  m 


A  doubt  had  arisen  whether  the  heir-at-law  of  a  cer- 
tiiin  estate  could  be  considered  perfectly  sane  or  not, 
and  tliis  for  legal  reasons.  lie  had  been  guilty  of 
no  outrage  against  the  ordinary  decencies  and  con- 
ventionalities of  society,  and  he  was  quiet  and  re- 
tiring in  his  manner,  but  yet  legal  forms  required 
to  be  satisfied. 

A  species  Oi  jury  met  to  inquire  into  his  mental 
condition,  r"./*  "^ook  evidence  accordingly.  Several 
witnesses,  i>  .  ii  against,  were  examined,  as  there 
were  conflicting  interests  involved,  and  at  length 
the  defendant  im.  v  :"  was  brought  before  the 
Court.  Several  questions  were  put  to  him,  all  of 
which  he  answered  with  sufficient  clearness,  and  the 
impression  was  growing  that  the  verdict  must  be 
given  in  his  favor. 

Tirhig  of  tlie  questioning,  however,  to  which  he 
had  been  subjected,  he  slightly  lost  his  temper,  and 
asked  the  Court  to  luury  up,  as  the  cattle  would 
not  be  housed  till  lie  got  home!  The  remark  was 
fatiil,  and  turned  the  scale  that  was  inclining  some- 
what to  his  own  side.  Tlie  incongruity  of  the  heir 
of  an  ancient  house  acting  as  cow-boy  was  to  his 
judges  clear  enough  evidence  of  mental  weakness. 
The  verdict  was  accordingly  given  in  favor  of 
plaintiff,  and  the  self-appointed  cow-boy  lived  to  a 
good  old  age,  but  never  entered  upon  the  possession 


L ICENSEI)  BEG  G  A  li  S. 


123 


of  liis  inheritance,  and  remained  divested  of  the 
right  and  power  of  managing  his  own  affairs. 

Of  the  two  undesirable  classes  I  have  mentioned, 
the  "feel"  has  now  been  described  as  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  one,  and  I  shall  now  pass  on  to  the 
"lunatic,"  as  representing  the  other. 

It  is  a  strange  thing  to  think  of,  j^et  not  stranger 
than  true,  that  lunatics,  pure  and  simple — lunatics  in 
every  sense  of  the  word — were,  many  of  them  at 
least,  at  large  in  "Bonnie  Scotland"  about  fifty 
years  ago;  not  the  merely  fatuous,  but  even  those 
who,  if  not  admitted  to  be  normally  dangei'ous, 
might  become  so  at  any  moment.  Of  conrse  a  wild 
raving  maniac  had  to  be  looked  to,  and  si  one  walls, 
and  the  never-failing  strait-jacket,  either  restored 
the  equilibrium  of  nund  that  seemed  to  have  been 
disturbed,  or  pi'ovided  another  unfortunate  for  the 
i'.nuMiil,  where  there  was  little  sorrowing,  and  but 
few  tears. 

The  connecting  link  was  certainly  a  very  peculiar 
being,  quiet  generally  and  inotfensive,  and  able  to 
speak  discreetly  on  every  subject  except  one;  but 
no  sooner  was  that  one  mentioned  than  all  ration- 
ality fled,  and  the  monomaniac  came  at  once  to  the 
front.  Examples  of  this  class  are  often  to  be  met 
with,  but  in  Sillerton  there  was  certainly  a  very 
peculiar  variety  of  the  species. 


r 


i '. 


1  i 


4 


124 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


k'      1 


it.il' 


'IV 


.Jf. 


James,  or  rather  Jamie  Muir,  was  a  fine,  strong, 
well-built  chiel ;  able  to  attend  to  any  ordinary 
duties,  and  possessed  of  a  garden  tliat  was  tlie 
admiration  of  the  whole  country-side.  lint  Jamie 
was  literally  mad  on  tartans.  Whether  he  luid  got 
the  idea  that  he  was  devscended  from  some  great 
Highland  chief,  I  could  never  leaiii,  but  on  all 
marked  occasions,  when  the  good  folks  of  Sillerton 
met  for  festive  or  other  purposes,  there  was  Muir 
in  full  Highland  costume,  and  sporting  a  bonnet  and 
feather  that  might  have  passed  muster  before  a 
Field-Marshal. 

One  other  peculiarity  Jamie  had  ;  he  made  a  prac- 
tice of  climbing  to  the  top  of  the  tallest  trees  in  the 
parish,  and  always  left  a  small  flag  of  tartan  flut- 
tering from  the  topmost  bough.  On  one  occasion 
he  slipped  when  leaving  his  loftiest  perch,  but  as  llie 
tree  was  a  larch,  the  branches  drew  out,  so  to  speak, 
as  Jamie's  weight  came  upon  them,  and  when  he 
arrived,  or  nearly  arrived,  at  terra  firma,  he  lay  upon 
half  a  cartload  of  branches,  and  the  stately  tree  was 
completely  stripped  on  one  side. 

Jamie  was  considerably  flurried  on  this  occasion, 
but  a  huge  pinch  of  sneeshin'  put  him  all  right 
again.  Nor  did  the  accident  wean  him  from  liis 
dangerous  proclivities.  Jamie  was  still  to  be  seen 
amongst  the  branches,  like  the  Pigmies  of  Darkest 


LICENCED  UEC d ARS. 


vro 


Africa,  and  his  sniiill  flags  sLill  fluttered  nuist-lilgli 
over  his  favorite  trees. 

His  brotlier  was,  however,  an  entirely  different 
character.  Darlc  in  appearance — soHtary  and  mi- 
sociable  in  liis  disposition,  and  imbued  with  mehm- 
clioly  ideas  witli  regard  to  most  religious  subjects, 
Willie  ]\Iuir  had  more  than  once  been  placed  under 
restraint,  and  had  returned  honie,  only  after  long 
intervals  of  absence.  No  one  imagined  that  he  was 
really  dangerous,  but  yet  there  was  a  general  desire 
to  shun  him. 

On  these  occasions,  when  it  was  evident  that  the 
disease,  if  disease  it  was,  was  growing  on  him, 
Willie,  or  rather  mad  Willie  Muir,  as  he  was  com- 
monly called,  was  often  to  be  seen  passing  through 
the  little  village,  always  bareheaded,  and  generally 
with  a  ponderous  cudgel  in  his  hand. 

On  one  of  these  occasions,  instead  of  passing 
through  the  village,  as  was  his  wont,  he  miule  at 
once  for  the  parish  school,  and  opening  the  door 
suddenly,  stood  before  the  terrified  youngsters,  and, 
if  possible,  the  more  terrified  schoolmaster.  Look- 
ing neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the  left,  he  made 
direct  for  the  bench  where  sat  Marshal  Graham,  one 
of  the  biggest  boys  in  the  school,  and  probably  one 
of  the  most  self-possessed. 

"  Marshal  Graham  I  "  roared  the  madman,  "  take 


1  J. 


il 


r^ 


\'\ 


\  > 


i  r 


1  ■  « 


'  If 


ft! 


4 


I 


:i  i 


i; 


t    fi 


126 


scornsfi  folk-loue. 


up  your  Bible  there ;  turn  up  the  fifth  chapter  of 
Miuk,  and  read  it  before  me,  rouii'  the  vilhige 
square ;  and  if  ye  miss  ae  woi'd  or  letter,  aff  gaes 
yer  head,  like  a  carl  doddie  I  "  The  carl  doddie  was 
one  of  those  heavy-headed  grasses  with  which  we 
played  some  game  of  chance,  by  knocking  off  the 
heads  against  each  other. 

Up  rose  Graham,  without  one  moment's  hesitation 
— took  his  Bible  in  his  hands,  duly  turned  up  the 
chapter  as  directed,  and  quietly  awaited  further 
orders.  With  a  quiet  but  tirm  grip  upon  the  collar 
of  the  jacket,  Muir  speedily  put  Graham  in  march- 
inq;  order  at  the  door  of  the  school. 

But  before  the  Scripture  reading  begtui,  there  was 
a  preparation  on  the  pait  of  the  madman  tliat 
utterly  terrorized  the  whole  connnunity.  3Iuir 
deliberately  drew  from  his  pocket  a  razor,  evidently 
prepared  for  the  occasion,  and  brandishing  this 
several  times  befoi-e  Graham's  eyes,  ordered  him  to 
proceed. 

During  all  this  time,  which,  after  all  did  not  ex- 
tend beyond  a  very  few  minutes,  the  poor  dominie 
seemed  dumfounded  and  helpless,  but  as  Muir  and 
his  Scripture  reader  marched  away  from  the  school 
door,  he  suddenly  seemed  to  recover  his  senses,  and 
escaping  from  one  of  the  windows  that  opened  to- 
wards the  back,  made  for  the  manse  as  if  a  thousand 


LICENSED  BEG  a  A  i:s. 


127 


fiends  were  behind  him.  Luckily,  quiet,  gentle  For- 
dyce  was  in  his  garden,  and  tliougli  a  peculiarly  re- 
tiring and  indeed  timid  man,  he  yet  at  once  went 
with  the  still  more  timid  schoolmaster  to  the  rescue 
of  Graham. 

But  how  progressed  the  reading  all  this  time? 
Slowly  yet  firmly,  Graham  marched  round  the  vil- 
lage square  reading  aloud  the  prescribed  passage, 
with  Muir  following  closely  behind  him,  listening 
eagerly  to  the  words  as  they  fell  from  the  boy's  lips 
and  watching  if  there  was  any  divergence  from  the 
authorized  text,  for  mad  Willie  ."Muir  knew  the  pas- 
sage most  accurately,  and  would,  no  doubt,  have 
visited  an  error  with  instant  and  terrible  punish- 
ment. 

There  was  something  supremely  awful  in  the 
madman's  look  as  he  stalked  behind  that  almost 
doomed  boy,  and  briuidished  the  weapon  of  punish- 
ment in  his  hand.  Once  had  the  square  been  gone 
over,  yet  the  chapter  was  only  half  read,  and  the 
weird  ordeal  went  on.  At  that  hour  there  was 
scarcely  a  man  in  the  village,  and  if  man  there  was, 
he  certainly  made  no  sign.  The  terror  stricken 
urchins  did  not  dare  to  approach  the  scene  openly, 
but  from  nooks  and  corners  watched  the  progress 
of  the  reader  and  his  judge. 
.  Ah !  might  not  that  judge  at  any  moment  have 


'  *  1 


ii 


(: 


I  i 


1      ^      t 

.  i,    i! 


I 


i 


128 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


r' 


developed  into  the  grim  ftnislier  of  the  law;  while 
many  a  blanched  face  i^eeped  out  cautiously  from 
the  windows  as  the  procession  moved  along,  dread- 
ing at  every  instant  lest  the  final  tragedy  might 
come. 

On  still  went  Giaham  and  Muir,  till  the  square 
was  circled  for  the  second  time,  and  just  at  that 
point,  as  the  minister  and  the  schoolmaster  reached 
the  group,  Graham's  voice  clearly  and  correctly  re- 
peated tlie  concluding  words  of  the  chapter. 

There  was  an  ominous  pause,  only  for  a  second  or 
two,  and  then  the  madman's  voice  uttered  a  respon- 
sive "  Amen."  The  unexpected  appearance  on  the 
scene  of  the  clergyman,  whom  Muir  had  been  ever 
taught  to  respect,  seemed  to  act  like  a  sedative  up- 
on his  troubled  mind,  and  slowly  the  open  razor 
was  closed  and  placed  in  his  pocket.  With  admi- 
rable  tact,  Fordyce  forebore  to  revert  to  the  cause 
that  had  brought  him  so  unexpectedly  to  the  village 
square,  and,  as  he  made  some  commonplace  remarks 
that  at  once  attracted  Muir's  attention,  the  sorelv- 
tried  but  successful  scripture-reader  at  once  took  in 
the  situation,  and  quietly  placing  a  few  yards  bts 
tween  himself  and  the  trio,  suddenly  put  on  a  spuit 
that  has  probably  seldom  been  beaten. 

There  was  no  meeting  again  that  day  in  the  par- 
ish school  of  Sillerton.    The  dominie  was  congider- 


LK  E.SsED  liEaUAKS. 


uri 


ably  demoralized,  and  the  scholars  had  witnessod  ii 
scene  that  might  have  well  driven  Latin,  and  Kn^^lish 
grammar,  and  everything  else  completely  out  of 
their  heads  for  even  longer  time  tiian  an  aftenioon. 
At  all  events,  neither  teacher  nor  taiight  enter«Ml 
again  that  day  the  schcKil,  and  it  was  a  long  tiir.c 
before  it  ceased  to  be  remembeied  what  the  occasion 
was  that  gave  a  half-holiday  to  the  children  of 
Sillerton. 

Mad  Willie  Muir  had  to  be  pnt  once  more  under 
restraint,  and  never  again  returned  to  the  parish. 
It  was  generally  said  that  on  his  recovery  he  emi- 
grated to  America,  while  a  few  were  wont  to  relate 
on  social  occasions,  when  talk  and  toddy  flowed 
freely  together  about  the  village  inn,  that  they  had 
reason  to  believe  that  Muir  was  eventually  devoured 
by  grizzly  beai's  among  the  "  Rookies"  of  the  then 
"Far  West." 

Be  that  as  it  may,  we  believe  that  some  social 
Scottish  customs  have  been  changed  for  the  better, 
and  that  there  is  no  great  chance  now  of  any  young- 
ster of  Sillerton  being  paraded  to  read  a  Scripture 
lesson  with  a  raving  madman  at  his  side,  and  with 
the  suggestive  accompaniment  of  an  open  razor 
blazing  ominously  before  or  behind  him, 


'0' 


J' 


11: 


lao 


bcorriisu  folk-lore. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


CONVIVIALITIES    OF    8ILLERT0N. 


Wj'  merry  sangs  an'  friendly  cracks, 

I  wat  they  didna  weary  ; 
An'  unco  tales  an'  funnie  jokes, 

Their  sports  were  cheap  an'  cheery. 

Halloween. 

It  is  undoubtedly  a  relief  to  pass  from  the  com- 
pany of  fools,  monomaniacs,  and  madmen  to  almost 
any  other  society  whatever.  But  yet  most  of  our 
pleasures  are  founded  on  contrast,  or  at  least  in- 
tensified by  it. 

The  poet  has  not  forgotten  to  remind  us  that 
"  Sweet  is  pleasure  after  pain,"  and  we  scarcely  re- 
quire to  go  to  the  poet  to  become  convinced  of  this 
truism.  We  seem  to  fall  in  love  on  some  principle 
of  contrast;  the  grave  not  unfrequently  affect  the 
company  of  the  gay  ;  learned  Lords  of  Session  have, 
ill  more  than  one  instance,  taken  to  themselves  wives 
wliose  cliief  education  consisted  in  the  ability  to 
roast  a  joint  or  broil  a  beefsteak ;  while  liow  often 
have  we  seen  a  veritable  giant  of  six  feet  and  a  few 


C O.VT'i  VlALlTlEiiVF  UlLLEliWy. 


131 


inches  over,  striding  along  with  a  wife  hanging  on 
his  arm  wlio  might  have  passed  for  a  first  cousin  of 
one  of  Gulliver's  Liliputians ! 

Prohably  it  was  the  force  of  contrast  that  induced 
the  comely  Scotch  lassie  to  marry,  and  who,  when 
asked  by  a  neighbor,  "  Fat  made  ye  marry  that 
ugly  chiel?"  very  innocently  replied,  "  Weel  I  wat, 
he's  nae  a  beauty,  but  then  he's  sic  a  guid-natured 
ureet." 

Well,  from  the  grave  things  discussed  in  last 
chapter  we  would  now  take  a  glance  at  tliose  social 
amusements  that  occasionally  and  sometimes  periodi- 
cally engaged  the  attention  of  the  good  folks  of 
Sillerton. 

No  better  description  of  the  lively  game  of  foot- 
ball, as  practised  by  the  boys  and  hobbledehoys  of 
the  parish,  could  we  give  tiian  that  supplied  by  the 
author  of  "Tullochgorum,"  but  alas!  few  Scotch- 
men now  would  get  through  averse  without  looking 
into  Jamieson  at  least  a  dozen  of  times,  and  I  much 
fear,  I  will  scarcely  be  held  to  have  thrown  much 
enlightenment  upon  the  subject  by  quoting  the 
following  stanza : — 


.1*1 


':| 


i^lli 


i 


!     \. 


*'  Like  bumbees  bizzing  frae  a  byke, 
When  herds  their  riggins  tirr, 
The  swankies  lap  thro'  mire  and  syke, 
Wow  as  their  heads  did  birr  1 


if  I 
III 


, 


H 


'\ 


132  SCOTTLSU  FOLK-LORE. 

"  They  youff'd  the  ba'  frae  dyke  to  dyke 
Wi  unco  speed  and  virr  ; 
Some  baith  their  shou'dera  up  did  fyke, 
For  blythness  some  did  flirr 
Their  teeth  that  day." 

Then  we  had  our  Halloween,  not  perhaps  witli 
all  the  different  ingredients  that  Burns  with  arlislic 
hand  has  thrown  into  his  wonderful  poem,  but  yet 
we  iiad  many  of  these,  as  well  as  those  grand  bon- 
fires, that  in  our  young  days  lighted  up  eveiy  hill 
and  brae  from  Aberdeen  to  the  Moray  Firth,  for 
this  much  we  could  discern  from  the  Mither  Tap  o' 
Bennachie ;  how  much  farther  north  I  caimot  say. 

Tlien  came  genial  Yule  with  all  its  wealth  of  fun 
and  jollity,  and  Auld  New  Year's  Day,  that  we  all 
sat  up  to  greet,  with  its  lucky  or  unlucky  "first 
foot,"  its  inevitable  whisky  bottle,  its  sowens,  both 
for  the  comfort  of  the  inner  man  and  for  the  ruin  of 
the  door  of  him  who  had  perhaps  weakly  allowed 
sleep  to  steal  upon  him,  and  so  forgot  his  midnight 
vigil ;  those  shooting  matches  that  gave  a  deeper 
zest  to  the  ploughman's  holiday;  and  last,  though 
not  least,  on  high  occasions,  the  grand  ball  in  some 
public  hall,  or  perhaps  barn,  swept  and  garnished 
for  the  nonce,  and  where  high  and  low  met  on  a 
common  platform,  where  all  went  merry  as  a 
marriage  bell,  and  ordinary  jealousies  and   social 


n 


CONVIVIALITIES  OF  SILIERTON. 


133 


differences  were  forgotten,  at  least  until  next  morn- 
iiijjj's  sun  threw  into  shade  the  tallow  dips  that  still 
flared  and  spluttered  on  the  wall. 

Then  what  of  our  weddings  and  christenings? 
Were  they  not  social  events  well  deserving  of  com- 
memoration ?  Who  could  express  a  doubt  who 
mingled  in  our  merry-makings  fifty  years  ago,  [)er- 
haps  less?  The  christening  had,  of  course,  its 
higher  religious  associations,  but  it  had  its  social 
side  as  well,  and  the  genial  parson,  as  a  rule,  when 
he  concluded  one  part,  was  by  no  means  averse  to 
mingle  in  tlie  other,  the  fact  being  that  in  Scotland, 
and  indeed  amongst  Scotchmen  wherever  located 
or  domiciled,  the  minister's  duty  was  only  half  per- 
formed when  the  child  was  duly  enrolled  a  Chris- 
tian, and  at  the  social  board  thereafter,  his  carving 
knife  requiiod  as  fine  an  edge  as  his  tongue  pos- 
sessed l)efore  grace  was  said. 

I  cannot  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  here  repeat- 
ing an  anecdote  that  I  got  from  one  of  the  fathers  of 
the  Church  of  Scotland  in  Canada.  Would  that  I 
Vi\\\\{\  rei)roiluce  the  very  words  and  gestures  that 
i^ave  such  reality  to  the  story  I 

The  scene  was  laid  in  Scotland,  where  a  knowl- 
edge  of  ilie  Shorter  Catechism  was  supposed  to  be 
the  property  of  every  man,  woman  and  child  belong- 
ing to  the  Kirk,  and  where  regular  diets  of  catechis- 


vi 


ii 


Mil 

I 


-f 


Kl:  ' 


II 


r-jr~ 


IP 

[fei 


i 


I 


134 


SCOTTISH  FOLKLORE, 


ing  were  held  throughout  every  parish  at  stated 
times  hy  the  parish  minister.  A  parishioner  called 
upon  his  minister  to  request  him  to  come  and  christen 
his  first-born.  The  minister  consented,  but  took 
the  liberty,  as  was  his  duty,  of  asking  John  one  or 
two  questions  in  the  Catechism  that  touched  more 
particularly  upon  the  question  of  baptism. 

John  was  found  wanting,  so  far  as  knowledge  on 
this  subject  was  concerned,  and  the  conscientious 
parson  put  off  the  christening  to  a  more  convenient 
season — in  fact  until  John  should  call  a  second  time 
at  the  manse,  and  prove  that  his  knowledge  of  things 
sacred  was  on  the  increase.  John  duly  came,  but 
alas!  no  increase  of  knowledge  came  with  him,  and 
still  the  minister  refused  to  name  the  baptismal  day. 
In  vain  John  pleaded  that  his  brother  and  his 
brother's  wife  and  various  relatives  had  been  invited, 
and  could  not  decently  be  put  off.  But  all  in  vain : 
the  parson  was  obdurate.  The  baptism  had  to  be 
delayed;  the  invited  guests  had  to  wait  a  little 
longer,  and  John  had  to  compear  at  the  manse  again 
"  on  approbation." 

Once  more  John  came,  but  frail  memory  refused 
still  to  repeat  the  information  that  the  Catechism 
gave,  and  on  which  his  wife  had  most  perseveringly 
coached  him,  and  the  minister  was,  if  possible,  more 
obdurate  than  ever.    John  pressed  the  point  hard ; 


CONVIVIALITIES  OF  SILLERTOX. 


135 


invited  friends  would  be  offended,  and  in  fact  insulted, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  But  no;  the  christening 
must  be  still  delayed  for  reasons  previously  given. 

At  last  a  happy  thought  struck  the  parishioner, 
and  he  at  once  unburdened  himself  of  his  secret. 
"  Weel,  minister,  I  may  jist  tell  you  the  truth.  Oor 
freens  micht  be  put  aff,  bit,  ye  see,  I  hae  bocht  the 
whisky,  and  ye  ken  yourseP  that  whisky  winna 
keep." 

My  venerable  friend  did  not  enter  into  the  whole 
scope  of  the  argument  that  John  so  deftly  handled, 
nor  shall  I  either,  but  taking  into  account  all  the 
circumstances  of  the  case,  and  after  carefully  coach- 
ing his  somewhat  obtuse  pupil  in  his  lesson,  the 
worthy  divine  saw  fit  to  shorten  the  term  of  purga- 
torial trial  through  which  his  parishioner  was  pass- 
ing; the  christening  was  duly  celebrated  at  the  time 
desired,  and  friends  and  whisky  were  both  there. 

As  to  how  the  good  folks  of  Sillerton  celebrated 
their  weddings,  I  presume  there  was  little  difference 
between  them  and  any  other  folks  from  "  Maiden- 
kirk  to  John  o'  Groats."  That  little  difference  con- 
sisted, I  believe,  in  a  shortening*  of  tlio  time,  wliiiib 
must  have  been  a  happy  relief  to  the  newly-married 
couple,  who,  in  those  primitive  days  and  places,  did 
not  start  immediately  after  the  '^  dejfMuier  tl  la 
fourchette,"  to   spend    their  honeymoon   amon^^st 


4 


1' 


■,  (• 


^r 


•r' 


'i 
If 


if' 


^-li 


.   6 


IT 


136 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE, 


m 


■:     I 


r 


Btrangers,  but  who  began  to  dispense  the  duties  and 
graces  of  hospitality  immediately  after  the  nuptial 
knot  had  been  tied. 

There  was,  of  course,  the  usual  feet-washing  the 
night  before,  and  all  the  fun  connected  with  the 
performance  of  that  preliminary  portion  of  the  mar- 
riage service,  and  shared  in  cliiefly  by  the  nearer 
relatives  and  more  intimate  friends ;  there  was  the 
gathering  at  the  bride's  home  of  the  invited  guests ; 
the  bride  in  all  the  glory  that  such  an  occasion  could 
supply;  the  groom  scarcely  knowing  whether  he 
stood  on  his  head  or  heels;  the  bridesmaids  and 
groomsmen  wearing  white  glove:-i,  and  wondering 
what  was  their  duty  to  do  next;  {»nd  the  parson, 
duly  robed  for  the  occasion,  and  presiding  not  only 
in  the  more  sacred  part  of  the  service,  but  also  in 
the  merrymaking  that  followed  the  conclusion  of 
the  ceremonv. 

And  then  what  fun  and  frolic  came!  How  the 
tables  verily  groaned  beneath  the  toothsome  burdens 
that  they  bore !  What  genial  and  humorous  speeches 
were  delivered  as  tlie  fumes  of  the  exhilarating 
toddy  rose  to  the  very  ceiling  of  the  banquetting 
room !  What  sly  wit  and  pawky  humor  flowed  in 
one  continuous  stream  from  the  sharpened  tongues 
of  the  merry  guests ;  and  at  last,  how  the  younger 
members  of  the  community  enjoyed  the  concluding* 


^ 


CONVIVIALITIES  OF  SlLLEltTON. 


137 


scene  of  the  evening's  performance — if  indeed  three 
or  four  o'ciockln  the  morning;  could  be  s(>  designated 
— when  the  bride's  stockinir  was  tin  own  anion jjf 
the  revellers,  and  happy  was  the  lad  or  hiss  tliat 
had  the  good  fortune  to  catch  it !  Theii*  turn 
undoubtedly  came  next. 

Yet,  all  the  marriage  festivities  were  comprised 
within  two  rounds  of  the  clock  in  Sillerton,  tiiougli 
farther  north  the  celebration  of  a  marriage  some- 
times occupied  nearly  a  week,  and  came  to  a  close, 
only  when  provisions  and  mountain  dew  were  both 
exhausted. 

A  near  relative  of  mine  had  the  privilege  of  wit- 
nessing a  wedding  a  hundred  miles  or  so  north  of 
Sillerton,  where  the  ceremonies  were  all  conducted 
in  Gaelic,  where  the  ordinary  conversation  was  kept 
up  in  that  language,  except  occasionally  when  Eng- 
lish was  employed  in  deference  to  the  groom  and 
liis  best  man,  who  both  spoke  the  Doric  of  the  Gari- 
och,  and  that  only,  and  where  my  friend  escaped 
matrimony,  at  least  on  that  occasion,  by  what  is 
sometimes  called  a  "close  shave."  I  shall  allow 
him  to  tell  his  story  in  his  own  way  : — 

"On  one  memorable  occasion  I  witnessed  a  wed- 
ding on  the  banks  of  the  Dulnan.  A  lad  from  Sil- 
lerton had  found  his  fate  beyond  the  Si>ey,  and  I 
was  induced  to  accompany  him  to  the  home  of  his 


:   t 


m 


■  I 

■I 


I; 

\  ^  ■ 


^ 


I    ! 


!    I 


138 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


bride.  It  was  a  long  and  weary  road  from  a  few 
miles  south  of  Beniuiohie  till  Craigellachie  and  the 
riaughs  of  Croindcile  passed,  we  crossed  the  swift- 
flowing  Spey  near  Grantown,  and  pushed  onward  in 
the  direction  of  the  famed  Aviemore.  About  three 
in  the  morning,  in  the  month  of  May,  we  came  in 
sight  of  our  destination,  but  even  at  that  uncanny 
hour  there  were  no  eyes  closed  at  Carr-Bridge.  One 
would  have  thought  from  appearances  that  the 
Prodigal  Son  had  arrived,  and  that  at  least  a  dozen 
fatted  calves  had  been  sacrificed  to  welcome  him. 
The  feast  had  already  begun,  and  music  and  dancing 
held  high  holiday. 

"  A  most  cordial  reception  was  accorded  us ;  Ori- 
ental hospitality  could  scarcely  have  surpassed  in 
any  way  the  welcome  that  met  us  on  the  banks  of 
the  Dulnan,  and  though  the  language  of  Ossian  was 
not  quite  so  familiar  to  us  as  the  Doric  Scotch  that 
we  had  learned  not  far  from  where  '  The  Gadie  rins 
at  the  back  o'  Bennachie,'  yet  we  felt,  and  had  every 
reason  to  feel,  that  we  were  highly  honored  guests. 

*'  Resisting  all  temptations  to  indulge  in  a  High- 
land fling,  we  soon  sought  the  seclusion  of  our  own 
rooms,  and  had  the  whole  and  entire  company  of 
the  *  Jolly  Beggars'  been  rehearsing  their  celebrated 
cantata  in  the  adjoining  apartment,  we  would  have 
remained  as  oblivious  of  their  very  existence  as  if 


iO.WU  lAlJlJES  OF  SILLERTON. 


139 


1) 


11 


n 


n 


our  own  moLlieis  bad  rocked  us  to  sleep.  Soon — too 
soon  t\)r  us — the  morning  diiwned — dawned,  I  mean, 
when  the  shutters  were  removed — and  the  sun's 
rays  proved  that  GUI  Sol  had  beaten  us  by  at  least 
a  couple  of  hours. 

''A  perfect  ftt(,  de  juie  was  being  fired  within  an 
easy  distance  of  our  windows;  about  as  many  pipers 
as  the  famous  Fershon  paraded  to  conquer  and  rav- 
age the  Clan  MacTavish  seemed  to  be  tuning  their 
instruments  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  and  as  your 
humble  servant  was  groomsman,  and  deeply  ven- 
erated the  immortal  Nelson's  signal,  *  England  ex- 
pects every  man  to  do  his  duty,'  we  were  soon  ready 
for  action. 

"  What  I  or  anybody  else  did  on  that  memorable 
occasion  seems  to  have  slipped  almost  entirely  from 
my  recollection.  I  know  that  the  old  Celtic  parson 
persisted  in  mistaking  me  for  the  groom.  I  had  in 
fact  joined  hands  with  the  blushing  bride,  at  his 
urgent  request,  thinking  that  this  was  probably  the 
right  thing  for  the  best  man  to  do  in  the  land  of  the 
Grants,  until  a  kindly  hand  forbade  the  banns,  and 
I  at  once  took  second  place,  but  when  that  marriage 
commenced  or  ended,  I  am  not  quite  prepared  to 
say. 

"  About  a  week  after,  I  hpd  a  most  exciting  search 
after  my  Lowland  garments,  having  evidently  donned 


iMi 


J 

'     ""    1 

■:j 

'<■  f  ■ 

n 

\m 


\\ 


'  i 


i^ii 


140 


SCO  TTISU  FOLK-L QUE. 


Iff 


the  garb  of  old  Gaul  at  a  very  early  stage  of  tlie  pro- 
ceedings ;  and  found  to  my  surprise,  by  examining 
sundry  documents  that  had  been  placed  inside  my 
sporran,  that  I  had  proposed  to,  and  had  been  ac- 
cepted by,  over  a  dozen  young  ladies  of  the  Strath. 

"This,  to  me,  was  a  somewhat  startling  revelation, 
and  as  I  was  not  quite  prepared  to  explain  my  pe- 
culiar position  to  all  the  stalwart  fathers  and  broth- 
ers who  might  very  soon  be  attempting  to  interview 
me,  I  beat  a  very  precipitate  retreat  homewards, 
and  as  soon  as  possible,  Craigellachie  and  Bennachie 
were  by  and  by  placed  between  me  and  the  enemy. 

"  I  am  not  quite  sure  why  I,  on  this  occasion,  for- 
got so  far  my  usual  caution.  It  may  have  been  the 
demoralizing  influence  of  the  unseemly  hours  we 
kept;  perhaps  it  may  have  been  produced  by  the  ex- 
traordinary stimulating  nature  of  the  mountain  air 
in  the  neighboihood  of  the  classic  Spey.  At  all 
events  I  never  attended  another  wedding  within  a 
day's  march  of  Rothienmrchus  ;  the  more  staid  and 
sober  customs  of  a  marriage  in  the  Garioch  were, 
like  Artemus  Ward's  old  flag,  good  enough  for 
me. 

"  I  have,  ever  since  that  famous  time,  firmly  be- 
lieved in  the  adage,  that  it  is  unwise  for  the  shoe- 
maker to  go  beyond  his  last.  Nay  more,  I  had  theo- 
rized upon  the  proverb,  and  began  to  think  that  it 


CONVIVIALITIES  OF  HILLEUTON. 


141 


might  be  better  for  Sillerton  bachelors  to  keep  to 
Sillerton  belles,  and  if  I  ever  again  consent  to  aid 
and  abet  a  friend  in  entangling  himself  in  the  nu[)- 
tial  noose,  I  shall  insist  on  a  Garioch  celebration, 
and  will  personally  appear  rather  in  decent  Garioch 
continuations,  than  befool  myself  in  assisting  to  per- 
form the  same  function  arrayed  in  the  garb  of  old 
Gaul,  with  a  Gaelic  Psalm  or  Pibroch  or  Coronach, 
or  something  of  that  sort,  ringing  in  my  ears,  and 
that  too  a  hundred  miles  nearer  the  North  Pole  than 
I  should  be." 

Such  was  the  account  that  my  friend  gave  me  of 
his  experiences  at  a  wedding  on  Speyside.  It  will 
no  doubt  provoke  a  smile,  his  difficulty  in  finding  a 
good  reason  for  his  forgetting  so  many  circumstances 
connected  with  the  celebration,  as  also  his  forgetting 
his  Lowland  caution  so  much  as  to  enter  into  lov  j 
engagements  wholesale  and  retail.  No  doubt  the 
pure  air  that  was  wafted  to  the  Strath  from  the 
snowy  heights  and  heath-clad  sides  of  Cairngorm 
and  Benmachdhui  might  have  had  an  exhilarating 
effect  upon  a  Garioch  Scotsman,  but  there  might 
have  also  been  other  causes. 

I  once  was  one  of  twelve,  who  celebrated  the  open- 
ing of  salmon-fishing  on  the  crystal  waters  of  the 
Dee  by  a  capital  dinner  in  one  of  those  hotels  on 
Deeside,  that  were  common  enough  in  my  young 


A. 


»  '. 


h 

1 

i 

II 

!  ,    ■ 

.'•ii 

i   il 

^  t' 
I  ft 

i 

■  \ 

! 

1      { 

i! 

112 


SCO  IT  IS  II  FO  L  K-  L  0  li  E. 


IK 


'i   I 


I 


f       1 


days,  and  wliere  notliing  was  wanting,  in  the  way 
of  cither  solids  or  liquids,  to  make  every  one  as  happy 
and  contented  as  mortals  may  be.  Of  course, 
amongst  many  otlier  luxuries,  the  "Salmo  Salar" 
played  a  conspicuous  part. 

Many  good  stories  of  the  rod  and  reel  were  told; 
and  a  few  good  fishing  songs  were  sung,  and  could 
llie  gentle  Tzaac  have  revisited  the  earth,  he  would, 
I  flatter  myself,  have  felt  perfectly  at  home  amongst 
us.  It  is  almost  needless  to  say  that  at  due  inter- 
vals the  sn\all  thistle  circled  ra[)idly  round  the  table, 
and  that  after  the  wiilnuts  and  the  wine  had  run 
their  course,  the  rest  of  the  evening  was  mainly  de- 
voted to  the  mixing  of  those  ingredients,  that  in 
days  of  old  accompanied  and  closed  every  entertain- 
ment. 

What  we  brewed  or  drank  on  that  occasion  I  shall 
not  specify  precisely,  but  may  simply  state,  that  not 
particularly  long  before  sunrise  we  all  wended  our 
way,  to  our  respective  homes.  Next  day  we  met  by 
special  appointment,  and  it  seemed  that  every  one 
had  some  ailment  that  last  evening's  dinner  ^uul 
given  him — not  anything  very  serious  or  r^  .,us, 
but  sufficient  to  place  him  below  "  par." 

The  salmon  had  disagreed  with  the  digestive  or- 
gans of  several ;  the  pudding  had  been  disastrous 
to  a  few  more,  and  one  or  two  lamented  that  they 


If 


!1 


CONVIVIALITIES  OF  SILLEliTON. 


US 


never  indulged  in  cheese  without  proving  mutyrs 
to  their  indiscretion  the  following  day. 

One  thing  struck  me  as  very  j^eculiar,  nnmely, 
that  none  for  a  moment  suspected  that  the  .  ^ry  lib- 
eral allowance  of  barley  bree  that  they  had  con- 
sumed had  any  hand  in  their  troubles.  And  yet, 
after  all,  I  strongly  suspect,  that  had  a  jury  given  a 
verdict  upon  the  evidence  before  tliem,  the  fisli,  pud- 
ding, and  cheese  would  have  been  declared  innocent, 
and  that  a  true  bill  would  have  been  found  against 
John  Barleycorn.  Is  it  possible  that  tlie  peat-reek 
had  anything  to  do  witli  my  fiiend's  peculiar  con- 
duct on  the  banks  of  the  Spey  ?  I  presume,  after 
all,  that  the  exhilaration  was  more  due  to  its  po- 
tency than  to  even  the  pure  air  of  the  Strath. 

Times,  doubtless,  have  changed  now,  but  the  last 
time  I  spent  a  few  days  in  that  quarter  of  the  globe, 
a  guest  at  the  hospitable  shooting  quarters  of  a 
world-renowned  English  brewer,  tlie  first  vision  of 
the  morning  was  the  head-keeper  with  some  genu- 
ine mountain  dew  to  "  wasli  down,"  as  he  said,  "  the 
cobwebs  that  had  accumulated  during  the  night." 
When  a  sportsman  got  wearied  beyond  his  strength, 
breasting  the  rocks  and  braes  in  pursuit  of  the  often- 
times wild  and  scared  red  grouse,  the  same  panacea 
was  at  hand  with  the  remark  that  one  spur  in  the 
head  was  better  than  two  in  the  heel ;  and  the  last 


111 


i 


; 


i 


1  I 


144 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


thing  at  night  was  the  liquid  and  aroiuatic  night- 
cup— unfailing  herald  of  that  sweet  and  unhrf»k«;n 
slumber,  that  in  those  days,  or  perhaps  nights  wa 
should  say,  we  never  missed.  Ah!  well  may  v. y 
say  with  the  old  Roman  Burns — 

Tempora  mutantur,  et  nos  mutamur  in  ittii. 


^n 


n 


OTHER  SlLLEiiTON  AMUiiEMENTiS. 


145 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

OTHER    SILLERTON    AMUSEMENTS — THE    SOCIETY    OF 

GARDENERS. 

I  hear  them  still,  unchanged — though  some  from  earth 

Are  music  parted,  and  the  tones  of  mirth — 

Wild,  silvery  tones,  that  rang  through  days  more  bright ! 

Have  died  in  others,  yet  to  me  they  come, 

Singing  of  boyhood  back — the  voices  of  my  home ! 

Hemans, 

Were  it  for  no  other  reason  than  to  look  up  the 
old  records  of  the  parish,  I  would  fam  revisit  Siller- 
ton.  But  what  records,  after  all,  could  I  look  into, 
except  those  of  the  kirk-session,  and  I  scarcely  think 
that  T  would  find  there  anythhig  like  a  paragraph 
headed,  "One  of  the  amusements  of  Sillerton." 

I  might  find  the  record,  carefully  and  circum- 
stantially told,  of  grave  offences  against  the  laws  of 
the  kirk,  and  morality  in  general ;  T  might  learn,  if 
I  did  not  know  before,  how  tlie  kirk-session  dealt 
with  transgre.ssors,  who  certainly  in  those  days 
"  found  tlieir  ways  hard ;"  well  and  faithfully  would 
I  find  it  recorded  that  some  incorrigible  black  sheep 
had  to  occupy  the  "  cutty  stool,"  or  seat  of  repent- 

10 


11^ 


i  :| 


>' 


f 

if' 


1 


liG 


aCOTTlSU  FOLK-LORE. 


11 


I      1^ 


Hi 


t    I 


ance,  sometimes  for  many  consecutive  Sundays,  and 
receive  ilie  public  rebuke  of  the  stern  minister,  and 
the  sour  and  unrelenting  looks  of  many  an  old  saint, 
who  had  himself,  perchance,  turned  over  a  new  leaf, 
and,  clothed  in  his  robes  of  self-righteousness,  had 
forgotten  the  warning,  "Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not 
judged." 

Sitting  at  that  session  table,  now  many  years 
ago,  not  as  judge  or  jury,  but  as  a  simple  scribe 
wielding  not  the  tongue  but  the  pen ;  listening  to 
sobs  that  came  from  the  very  depths,  and  seeing 
tears  that  did  not  merely  trickle,  but  freely  flowed 
over  young,  yet  careworn  cheeks,  my  thoughts 
wandered  back  to  that  grand  old  Temple  of  Jerusa- 
lem, whose  greatest  glory  was,  that  it  saw  Ilim 
who  came  to  carry  back  the  wandering  lambs  to  the 
sheep-fold. 

A  woman,  bowed  down  with  grief,  and  perchance 
remorse,  bends  before  One  who  traces  letters  on  the 
sand,  indicating  probably  the  ease  with  which  rec- 
ords of  sin  might  or  should  be  blotted  out,  and 
utterly  disregarding  the  stern  faces  that  accused 
their  frail  sister,  and  demanding  a  judgment  upon 
lier  sin.  At  length  a  voice  says— "He  that  is  with 
out  (this)  sin,  let  him  cast  the  first  stone  at  hei." 

The  shaft  has  struck  home,  and  one  by  one  her 
accusers  silently  steal  away.    "When  the  Saviour 


IT 


OTHER  SILLEHTON  AMUiSEMEJ^TS. 


147 


looks  up,  none  but  the  accused  is  there,  and  ten- 
derly come  the  words  from  His  gentle  lips — "  Neither 
do    I  condemn  thee.     Go,  and  sin  no  more." 

Ah  !  how  much  more  kindly  was  that  erring  one 
dealt  with  in  the  Jewish  temple,  than  many  an 
erring  but  repentant  sinner  in  the  auld  kirk  of 
Sillerton ! 

Such  scenes  would,  unbidden,  flit  before  my  mind, 
and  refuse  to  be  driven  away.  They  relentlessly 
left  the  stamp  of  an  iron  heel  upon  my  soul ;  they 
came  to  stay,  and  with  little  effort  I  can  recall,  alas ! 
too  many  of  them  otill. 

AVell,  I  might,  and  certainly  would,  find  recorded, 
tersely  and  coldly,  such  scenes  as  I  have  hinted  at, 
but  of  any  mere  worldly  amusements,  or  things  of 
that  nature,  no,  not  one  line. 

And  yet  Sillerton  had  its  gala  days,  when  the 
parish  put  on  its  best  looks,  and  work  was  pretty 
much  at  a  standstill.  There,  for  example,  was  the 
one  great  Fair  that  came  once  a  year  to  gladden  the 
hearts  of  not  only  the  Sillertonians,  but  those  of 
the  neigliboring  parishes  as  well.  Tliere  was,  how- 
ever, an  object  in  the  great  annual  Fair.  Farmers 
gathered  from  all  cpiarters  to  l)ny  and  sell ;  servants 
were  engaged  for  t!je  coming  half-year  luid  r<;ceiv('d 
the  "arles"  that  were  as  binding  nearly  as  the 
Queen's  shilling.    Jockey  was  able  to  buy  ribbons 


•''  i . 


if 


s  n 


I 


'  :  Is 


\ 


; 


!i 


148 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


to  tie  up  Jeannie^s  "  bonnie  brown  hair ;  "  quarrels 
between  rivals  in  the  paths  of  love  or  war  were 
either  settled  over  a  few  glasses  of  Sillerton  whisky, 
or  decided  with  gloveless  hands,  in  a  fight  to  the 
finish,  and  according  to  some  rules  well-known  t(» 
all,  and  which  probably  formed  the  basis  of  the 
Marquis  of  Queensbury's  rules;  and  last,  but  not 
least,  the  annual  Fair  gave  the  boys  and  girls  that 
usually  attended  the  parish  school  of  Sillerton  a  full 
and  genuine  holiday. 

We  can  readily  see  the  "why"  and  "wherefore" 
in  all  this,  but  in  the  case  of  the  great  annual  meet- 
ing and  grand  parade  of  the  Sillerton  Gardeners,  I 
was  never  able  to  fathom  the  cause  of  their  existence 
in  any  shape  whatever.  This  society,  if  it  might 
be  so  called,  is  amongst  the  shadows  of  the  past, 
and  it  requires  some  effort  to  recall  it  very 
clearly. 

Like  the  shadows  whose  hands  ^neas  attempted 
to  grasp  in  Hades,  and  who  eluded  hirn  like  a  flit- 
ting dream,  so  appear  now  these  shadowy  Giii- 
deners  to  me.  As  Wordsworth  has  it  in  his 
"Laodamia": 

"  Forth  sprang  the  impassioned  Queen  lior  Lord  to  clasp  ; 
Again  that  consummation  she  essay'd  ; 
But  unsubstantial  form  eludes  her  grasp 
As  often  as  that  eager  grasp  was  made," 


\imt»,im€mm 


OTHER  SJLLERTON  AMUSEMENTS. 


149 


:s 


. 


And  yet  all  is  not  mere  shadow,  and  some  figures 
rise  above  the  ordinary  level,  like  liiiltops  over  a 
fog-covered  landscape.  The  origin,  howevei",  and 
some  other  points  connected  with  the  Gardeners' 
Society  of  Sillerton,  for  a  society  it  was  really 
named,  must  remain,  I  fear,  in  profound  obscurity. 
It  is  liliely  enough  tliat  when  Sillerton  Paradise 
was  planned,  and  became  an  accomplished  fact, 
with  life-size  figures  of  Adam  and  Eve,  half-hidden 
amongst  the  yew-tree  branches,  the  Gardeners  may 
have  been  organized  to  represent  some  visiting  com- 
mittee of  good  or  evil. 

This,  at  all  events,  I  do  know,  it  was  at  least  no 
benefit  society,  but  the  funds  and  dues  collected  at 
the  annual  parade  were  simply  transferred  from  the 
pockets  to  the  stomachs  of  the  Gardeners,  the  ex- 
penses of  the  annual  dinner  requiring  all  the  funds 
on  hand,  and  rendering  a  cash  account  quite  un- 
necessary. 

This  parade  took  place,  I  believe,  about  midsum- 
mer, at  any  rate  when  flowers  were  in  their  highest 
perfection,  and  in  the  village  and  neighborhood 
there  were  great  preparations  made  for  the  gather- 
ing. Floral  designs  were  then  in  order,  and  to  our 
juvenile  imaginations  it  seemed  very  wonderful, 
what  the  artistic  talent  of  Sillerton  could  produce 
in  that    line.    These  designs  were  a'^   ready  the 


! 


'fil  * 


.if 


i 

,; 


«    K 


fii 


'Hii 


J 


150 


SCOTTliiU  FQLK-LOHE, 


evening  before,  and  made  their  appearance  only 
when  tlie  floral  warriors  were  ready  to  march. 

At  last  the  eventful  day  dawned.  There  was  a 
distant  sound  of  music,  if  not  of  revelry ;  the  brass 
band  of  Oldnieldruni  weavers  had  been  engag-ed  for 
the  occasion,  and  scouts,  who  were  out  in  force  on 
such  an  exciting  time,  reported  that  the  musicians 
had  already  crossed  at  Boaty's  Ferry,  and  were 
now  approaching  the  village  in  full  blast.  It  would 
be  difficult  to  say  whether  the  cattle  in  the  Druid 
Park  or  the  youngsters  of  the  village  were  the  more 
impressed  and  delighted. 

I  use  the  expression  advisedly,  for  surely  if 
dolphins  could  be  charmed  by  the  lyre  of  Orpheus, 
the  bovines  of  Sillerton  became  equally  suscei)til)le 
of  pleasing  impressions  at  the  brazen  blasts  of  the 
Oldmeldrum  weavers.  And  there  in  the  village 
square  stood  the  venerable  Gardeners  with  flowers 
and  banners  and  spears  ready  to  receive  them. 

The  author  of  the  "  Siller  Gun  "  must  have  had 
such  a  vision  before  his  mind's  eye  when  penning 
the  lines : 

"  But  ne'er,  for  uniform  or  air, 
Was  sic  a  group  reviewed  elsewhere  I 
The  short,  the  tall ;  fat  folk  and  spare  ; 

Syde  coats,  and  doc^kit, 
Wigs,  queues,  and  clubs,  and  curly  hair ; 

Round  hats,  and  cockit  1 


OTUER  SILLERTON  AMUSEMENTS. 


151 


Wr  that  the  dinlin  drums  rebound, 
Fifes,  clarionets,  and  hautboys  sound  ! 
Tlirough  crowds  &n  crowds,  collected  round, 

The  Corporations 
Trudge  off,  while  Eclio's  self  is  drowned 

In  acclamations  ! 

Whether  there  was  a  special  costume  besides  the 
aprons  that  the  members  wore,  and  on  which  anude 
Adam  and  Eve,  the  Serpent,  and  an  apple-tree  in 
full  bearing,  were  all  depicted  in  the  most  cunning 
siimpler  stitch  that  the  parish  maidens  could  supply, 
I  know  not ;  but  there  was  one  figure  there  that  I 
remember  as  if  I  had  seen  him  only  yesterday. 
Sourie,  as  he  was  familiarly  called  from  Sourfauld, 
the  name  of  his  little  farm,  seemed,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  to  have  been  appointed  perpetual  Brigadier- 
General. 

An  old  man  then  was  Sourie,  but  still  straight  as 
a  ramrod,  and  approaching  the  heroic  in  height. 
There  were  few  opportunities  for  training  orators  in 
Sillerton,  but  had  there  been,  Sourie  would  certainly 
have  borne  the  bell. 

I  recollect  some  of  the  old  man's  quaint  sayings, 
and  there  was  a  very  marked  difference  between 
them  and  the  utterances  that  came  from  his  less 
gifted  neighbors.  Perhaps,  were  I  ever  to  visit  the 
churchyard  of  the  old  parish  T  might  trace  the 
rudely-carved  lines  that  tell   where  llu'  farmer  of 


I 


■  fi  i 


'.  It- 


\  I 


!      I 


M 


t 


I 


lo2 


SCOTTISJI  FOLK-LOHE. 


Sourfauld  was  gathered  to  liis  fathers,  and  not  inap- 
propriately repeat  the  line — 

"  Some  mute,  inglorious  Milton  hore  may  rest." 

It  is  with  the  live  Sourie,  however,  that  I  am  now 
dealing,  and  as  he  stands  there  at  the  head  of  the 
Gardeners  of  Sillerton.  But  what  a  wonderful 
metamorphosis  has  taken  place,  and  who  would 
recognize  the  plainly-clad  and  somewliat  patched 
tenant  of  Sourfauld  in  the  towering  Goliath  who 
directs  the  movements  of  the  Gardeners  ? 

The  bearskin  cap  of  a  Life-Guardsman  would  liave 
hid  its  diminished  head  before  the  lofty  headpiece 
that  Sourie  wore.  Who  designed  it,  or  why  it  was 
so  designed,  has  not  been  written  amongst  the 
chronicles  of  Sillerton. 

The  Spartan  warrior  who  fell  in  battle  was  borne 
home  upon  his  shield.  Was  it  possible  that  the  Sil- 
lerton designer  of  martial  garments  knew  something 
of  ancient  history,  and  moved  by  the  careful  thrift 
of  his  own  countrymen,  and  profiting  by  the  recol- 
lection of  Spartan  adaptation,  so  constructed  the 
helmets  of  our  local  warriors  that,  should  the 
wearer  fall  in  battle,  he  might  be  easily  and  eco- 
nomicjiUy  buried  in  his  capacious  headgear? 

A  bright  scarlet  coat,  somewhat  resembling  what 
our  fighting  forefathers  wore  about  a  half-century 


■■I 


OTHER  SIL  L  Kli  Toy  A  M  I.  >  KM  K\  I S. 


ir>:j 


before,  covered  the  greater  part  of  tlie  olon^aled  form 
of  the  coinmander-iii-chief,  and  partly  eoncciiled  a 
pair  of  gigantic  boots  that  resembled  vtMy  miu.h 
those  worn  by  swashbucklers  in  the  time  of  Ciom- 
well,  while  a  remarkably  long  sword  com})letcd  the 
outfit,  so  far  at  least  as  my  memory  warrants  a 
description. 

Whence  that  sword  came  has  often  been  a  source 
of  wonder  to  my  boyhood  days.  C'ould  it  havf  been 
found  near  Wallace  Xenk  in  the  brave  toon  o'  Uon- 
Accord  ? 

Might  some  local  antiquary  have  lent  it  for  the 
occasion,  or  did  the  village  blacksmith,  in  a  moment 
of  high  warlike  s[)iiit,  desij^n  and  fashion  the  ti^'- 
rible  weapon  that,  like  the  helmet  of  Navarre, 
blazed  as  a  guiding  star  in  front  of  the  Gardeners, 
who  now,  to  the  clang  of  maitial  music,  tramjied 
around  the  village  s(piar{',  and  four  deep,  ma  relied 
straight  through  the  sliady  walks  ot  the  home  park 
to  the  House  of  Sillerton,  the  residence  of  the  Hon- 
orary Chief  of  the  Gardeners,  and  where  the  com- 
mander-in-chief and  his  men  went  thiough  a  species 
of  royal  salute?  Poor  Sourie!  when  I  recall  the  old 
man  to  my  memory,  I  think  of  him  as  Oliver  Wen- 
dell Holmes  thought  of  his  so-called  "  Last  Leaf "  : — 

"  I  know  it  ia  a  sin 
For  iiie  to  yit  aiid  grin 


S*      t! 


i\ 


I 


•4i 


i  i; 


154  SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 

At  him  here  ; 
Put  the  old  three-cornered  hat, 
And  the  breeches,  and  all  that, 

Are  so  queer  ! " 

Oil  the  conclusion  of  these  preliminary  exercises, 
prizes  were  given  for  the  best  floral  designs,  slight 
refreshments  were  handed  round,  the  patron's  health 
was  drunk  in  a  bumper  of  good  Scotch,  three  ring- 
ing elieers  were  given,  and  to  the  inspiring  music  of 
the  brass  band,  whose  whistles  had  now  been  duly 
moistened,  tlie  Ancient  Gardeners  wended  their  way 
back  to  the  village. 

Probably  the  gentle  reader  may  here  be  ready  to 
say,  "  We  are  done  with  the  Gardeners  now."  Not 
by  any  means.  The  parade  is  over,  flags  and  spears, 
and  aprons,  drums,  fifes,  and  swords  are  laid  aside, 
but  the  real  business  of  the  Gardeners  of  Sillerton 
is  now  only  begiiniing. 

I  have  heard  it  said,  that  after  all,  the  Gardeners 
of  Sillerton  were  incorporated  simply  to  enjoy  a 
dinner  once  a  year  in  the  roomy  dining-room  of  the 
Giimut  Arms.  This  may  or  may  not  be  the  case, 
but  I  certahdy  knew  one  individual  who  joined  the 
society  for  this  special  ol)ject,  and  for  no  other. 
"Protty,"  as  he  was  nicknamed,  was  one  of  the 
characters  of  the  locality,  and  while  usually  leading 
a  sober  and  industrious  life,  yet,  on  high  occasions, 


OTUEn  SILLKliTOX  AMrsKMKXTS. 


1.'.') 


got  somewhat  befuddled,  and  on  the  occasion  of  tlio 
Gardeners'  dinner  got  gloriously  fou. 

Protty,  like  Lazarus  of  old,  got  few  of  the  good 
things  of  this  life,  but  he  determined  that  at  least 
once  a  year  there  should  be  an  exception  to  the  rule, 
and  cheerfully  paid  his  annual  subscription  toenjf  y 
the  coveted  luxuries  of  the  annual  dinner. 

And  what  a  dinner  was  there!  The  season  fu* 
haggis  had  not  yet  come,  but  haggis  was  quite  a 
common  dish  in  the  locality,  and  did  not  exercise 
that  influence  upon  the  salivaiy  glands  that  it  does 
upon  Scotchmen  in  foreign  lands,  who  meet  to  enjoy 
that  great  national  dish  once  a  year,  namely,  on  the 
natal  day  of  Scotland's  patron  saint.  But  beef  and 
greens  were  there ;  mighty  rounds  fit  to  set  befoie 
a  Queen;  fish,  fowl,  and  all  the  etceteras  that  in 
tiiose  days  went  to  constitute  a  feast  that  was  re- 
quired by,  and  demanded  too,  a  vigorous  appetite. 
It  was  verily  "strong  meat  for  strong  men." 

I»nt  how  much  of  these  luxuries  fell  to  the  lot  of 
poor  Protty  ?  The  fact  was  that  the  wags  of  Siller- 
ton — and  their  name  was  "  Legion  " — knowing 
Protty's  relish  for  good  things,  had  so  ordered  it 
that  not  one  of  the  luxuries  should  reach,  in  Protty's 
case,  their  legitimate  destination.  Protty  was  able, 
during  the  progress  of  the  dinner,  to  enjoy  the  nips 
of  whisky  that  followed,  or  perhaps  accompanied, 


.,  I: 


-■'I 


!   I' 


■  ii 


1  i     I 


M\ 


1 


T 


iii 


156 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


l; 


iiiii 


certuiii  courses,  but  a  dish  of  mashed  turnips, 
lieavily  sweetened  with  sugar,  and  i(*i)lenislied  again 
and  again,  was  all  that  Protly  was  permitted  to 
enjoy,  l*roLty  being  too  obfuscated  l»y  repeated  liba- 
tions to  see  the  trick  that  was  being  phiyed  upon 
him. 

Such  was  oneof  the  standing,  prnetleal,  and  j)eren- 
nial  jokes  that  were  relished  i)i  tliose  dnys,  and 
doubtless  very  heartily  laughed  at  by  those  who 
cheated  the  Ancient  Gardener  of  his  due. 

That  all  this  was  very  reprehensible  who  will 
deny,  yet,  personally,  I  feel  no  responsibility.  I 
promised  to  paint  Sillerton,  not  as  it  should  have 
been,  but  simply  as  it  was,  and  I  doubt  not  there 
are  some  yet  amongst  the  denizens  of  the  parish,who, 
if  they  ever  cast  their  eyes  upon  this  page  will  lemem- 
ber  well  the  stalwart  frame  and  honest,  homely 
speech  of  the  leader  of  the  Ancient  Gardeners — 
Hourie  of  Sourfauld  :  and  as  they  revive  the  story  of 
the  mashed  turnips — the  only  dish  partaken  of  by 
the  fuddled  Gardener— will  not  the  phrase— the 
well-known,  the  oft-repeated  phrase — be  repeated 
again—"  Pretty !  Pretty  !  Sandy  Mackie  "  ? 


TUE  WAU6  OF  THE  HOSES. 


157 


CITAPTEUXVII. 


'A 


THK  WAllS  OF  THE  UOSKS. 

"  Sparo  your  comparisons,"  replied 

An  angry  Rose,  wlio  grew  beside  ; 
"  Of  all  mankind  you  should  not  flout  us  ; 

What  can  a  pool  do  without  us? 

In  every  love-song  roses  bloom  ; 

We  lend  you  color  and  jierfume." 

— Jo:'iN  Gay. 

Fkak  not,  gentle  render ;  the  humble  liistoiiun  of 
Sillerton's  quiet  ways  luis  no  intention  of  appro- 
priating  the  pen  of  a  Maeaulay  or  a  Napier,  and 
whisking  you  off  to  the  great  battlelieldsof  Ilindos- 
tan  or  of  Merrie  England. 

A  theme  more  becomhig  an  Aberdeenshire  chron- 
ieler,  were  he  martially  inclined,  might  bu  found 
nearer  home,  and  doubtless  he  would  tind  a  suitable 
subject  for  his  talent  in  the  "sair  field  o'  liar- 
law"— 

*' When  Donald  came  branking  down  the  brae 
Wi'  twenty  thousjind  men." 

Our  "Wars  of  the  Hoses"  were  simply  the 
friendly  competitions  that  took  place  at  the  annual 
meeting  of  the  Gardeners  of  Sillerton,  between  our 


^i 


1- 


( 1^ 


in 


158 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LOltE. 


riviil  horticulturists,  and  where  the  rose,  }mr  excel- 
knee.,  played  ii  very  prominent  part.  Indeed,  before 
dismissing  tlie  parade  of  the  said  Gardeners,  if  I 
have  not  already  done  so,  I  have  one  incident  more 
to  relate,  without  which  my  narrative,  to  me,  at 
least,  would  seem  incomplete. 

I  have  already  remarked  the  extraordinary  in- 
terest that  the  Gardeners'  Day  excited  both  in 
village  and  district.  The  local  amateur  horticult- 
urists— and  there  were  several  such  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, who,  in  addition  to  success  in  growing  their 
favorites,  possessed  the  art  as  well  ()f  arranging 
tlicm  in  l>eautiful  forms  and  combiiuitions — had  a 
peculiarly  deep  interest  in  the  day. 

Apart  from  the  pleasure  that  success  would  bring, 
there  was,  in  addition,  the  satisfaction  that  the 
money  value  of  the  prizes  won  would  also  alfoi'd. 
And  thas  there  was  a  double  stimulant  supplied. 
Secretly  each  competitor  formed  his  i»hins  and 
carried  them  out.  Xo  State  secret  was  more  jeal- 
ously guarded  than  his,  and  no  rival,  or  indeed  any- 
body else,  would  be  allowed  to  obtain  the  faintest 
glimpse  of  the  mere  skeleton  that  now,  bare  and 
unintei'esting,  would,  on  the  great  niarslialling  day 
of  the  Gardeners,  stand  in  the  Sillerton  Square 
arrayed  in  all  the  beauty  that  a  rainbow  robe  of 
exquisite  flowers  would  lend. 


THE  WAR^  OF  THE  HOSES, 


169 


Truly  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not  arrayed 
like  one  of  these.  The  interest  also  wms  of  a 
double  character.,  and  that  of  the  competitor  was 
shared  by  all  the  boys  of  Sillerton. 

We  had  each  of  us  our  favorite,  and  liini  wo 
were  pledged  to  aid  and  abet  to  tlie  best  of  our 
ability.  I  fancy  1  hear  one  saying — "But  in  whnt 
way  could  aid  be  given  ? "  Well,  that  is  an  easy 
matter  to  explain. 

While  the  embryo  floral  crown,  or  whatever  device 
it  might  be,  was  complete  in  every  part — complete 
in  so  far  as  the  mere  skeleton  or  framework  conld 
be  called  complete — yet  its  flowery  robes  and  adorn- 
ments must  needs  bo  all  julded  on  the  morniiif^-  of 
the  parade.  And  thus  we  became  jackals  to  the 
lion.  We  arranged  beforehand  with  non-conipeti- 
tors,  who  would,  early  on  the  morning  of  the  event- 
ful day,  give  us  the  gleanings,  nay,  the  whole  yield, 
of  their  gardens. 

The  friend  who  j)iovidcd  me  with  my  floral 
liibute  was  known  in  the  parisli  by  the  name  of 
General  Hay.  Let  me  now  intioduce  the  old  man. 
Upwards  of  six  feet  in  height,  at  least  four.score 
years  of  age,  yet  unbent  by  time  or  infirmity,  tlie 
General  has  anticipated  our  errand,  and  is  already 
in  his  garden  awaiting  our  arrival.  lie  greets  is 
kindly    and   smiles   as  ho  marks   the  number    of 


'i 


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if     J 


III 


;^l! 


IGO 


tiCO Til S II  FOLK-LORE. 


\ 


1 


baskets  we  carry,  tor  I  liad  secured  a  partner  in  tlie 
carrying  business,  and  the  said  baskets  conveyed 
the  gentlest  of  hints  that  our  demands  upon  his 
flower-garden  would  not  by  any  means  be  of  a 
modest  nature. 

I  believe,  however,  he  took  this  as  a  complimeni, 
and  had  he  been  possessed  of  the  Oriental  "CJardens 
of  Gul,"  or  been  entitled  to  glean  Mount  Ilybla's 
roses,  he  would  have  culled  every  flower,  rather  than 
send  us  away  unsatisfied. 

As  to  the  old  gentleman's  habiliments,  a  pair  of 
knee-breeches,  with  long  tight  stockings,  and  buckled 
shoes,  as  a  continuation,  finished  his  outfit  as  to  the 
lower  extremities,  and  showed  a  pair  of  long,  thin 
legs  that  harmonized  admirably  with  his  "tout  en- 
semble." The  coat  had  a  half  military  look,  showing 
a  very  capacious  and  high  collar,  and  extending 
nearly  to  his  knees.  The  well-buttoned  vest  did  not 
allow  much  of  liis  breast  linen  to  be  seen,  but  this 
was  more  than  equalized  by  a  remarkably  high  shirt 
collar  that  rose  above  the  ears.  I  never  saw  such 
another  but  once,  when  I  made  one  of  ray  first  visits 
to  Aberdeen.  The  amount  of  cloth  ai'ound  the  indi- 
vidual's ne(!k  induced  me  to  ask  his  name^  and  my 
companion  informed  me  that  the  wags  hac'  :  <tmed 
him  the  "  British  Linen  Company." 

But  I  seem  to  have  forgotten  the  bead-piece,  and 


TJJE  WAliS  OF  TUE  ROSES, 


101 


left  that  to  I) ;  last  described  which  generally  sli(nil<l 
claim  first  notice.  "Ciip-a-pied"  with  nie  seems  to 
have  been  reversed,  but  I  shall  take  the  rei  der  iiiio 
my  confidence  and  tell  why  I  adopted  that  course. 
It  may  be  possible  that  T  was  thinking  of  Kobert 
Browning's  Christmas  Eve,  and  that  personally  I 
might  be  a  twin  brother,  .at  least  in  spirit,  of  that 

Artist  of  another  ambition. 
Who,  having  a  block  to  carve,  no  bigger, 
riijs  spent  his  j»ower  on  the  opposite  quest, 
And  believed  to  begin  at  the  feet  was  best, 
For  so  may  I  see,  ere  I  die.  the  whole  figure  ! — " 

The  fact  was,  however,  that,  like  the  small  boy,  I 
kept  the  sweetest  moi  sel  on  the  side  of  my  plate  for 
the  last  mouthful.  Ti  *^J)on  bouche  was  an  excellent 
close  to  the  feast.  It  was  not  exactly  the  Glengarry 
cap  that  attracted  my  attention,  for  the  General  in 
this  respect  resembled  Rob  IJorison — 

It  wasna  the  bonnet,  but  the  head  that  was  in  it, 
Made  every  one  speak  o'  Rob  Rorison's  bonnet. 

And  so  with  General  Hay — not  the  bonnet,  but 
the  head  itself,  attracted  the  attention.  The  last 
"queue"  that  was  worn  in  SlUertou hung  from  that 
head.  T  had  often  seen  the  "queue"  in  pictures 
that  represented  a  generation  that  had  almost  passed 
away,  but  on  the  living  subject,  with  this  one  excep- 
tion, never. 


1^ 


*\  "• 


n 


\  i 


III 


1  'l 

' .  1 

\i\ 


102 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE, 


Why  General  Hay  clung  to  this  relic  of  a  past  age 
when  all  his  contemporaries  went  "shaven  and 
shorn,"  it  were  hard  to  say,  and  supplied  a  problem 
to  tlie  young  antiquaries  of  the  village  that  was 
never  solved.  But  there  it  was,  and  in  the  church  on 
Sunday,  where  its  owner  was  always  in  his  place,  it 
attracted  more  attention,  I  fear,  from  the  younger 
members  of  the  congregation  than  the  somewhat  dry 
yet  classic  utterances  of  the  staid  and  stately  Robert 
Fordyce. 

It  was  as  well  a  matter  of  no  small  curiosity  to 
me  to  know  how  Hay  had  received  his  "  soubriquet " 
of  General,  and  it  at  least  proves  the  prevalence  of 
that  vein  of  fun  and  humor  that  existed  in  Sillerton, 
and  which,  so  often,  as  we  have  seen,  came  to  the 
surface.  All  the  small  boys  associated  old  Hay  with 
scenes  of  carnage  and  blood,  and  no  doubt  believed 
that  he  had  played  no  unimportant  part  in  the  mili- 
tary history  of  the  country.  Personally,  I  was  re- 
luctantly undeceived,  and  learned  from  an  old  ser- 
geant of  artillery,  whom  I  often  visited  to  hear  his 
account  of  battles  in  the  Peninsula,  in  which  he  had 
taken  a  part,  that  the  old  man  had  never  seen  nor 
iu'iird  a  shot  filed  in  anger. 

When  the  Scottish  youth  enrolled  themselves 
members  of  the  Militia  that  prepared  to  meet  any 
threatened  invasion,  Hay  found  himself  a  full  private 


r       :i5 


i  <!i 


'R 


THE  WARS  OF  THE  KOSE,'^. 


1G3 


in  a  company  of  which  the  junior  lieutenant  owned 
the  same  name  as  himself.  To  what  particular 
branch  of  the  family  Lieutenant  Hay  belonged  it 
would  be  difficult  now  to  say,  as  the  Hays  were 
decidedly  a  fighting  family ;  many  of  them  rose  to 
distinction  in  the  army,  and  if  Generals  there  were 
among  them — and  undoubtedly  there  were — will  not 
their  names  and  deeds  be  all  duly  recorded  in  the 
military  annals  of  Aberdeenshiie? 

When  the  rumors  of  war  and  the  smoke  of  battle 
cleared  away,  Private  Hay  converted  his  spear  into 
a  pruning-hook,  and  condescended  to  cultivate  cab- 
bages and  roses  in  a  quiet  and  cosy  neuk  not  far 
from  the  gate  of  Paradise. 

The  warlike  Lieutenant  decided  otherwise; 
buckled  on  his  sword  the  more  tightly,  and  went 
to  fight  his  country's  battles  wherever  and  whenever 
fighting  was  recpiired.  Step  by  step  Hay  rose  in 
rank  in  his  profession  of  arms,  until  one  day  the 
news  reached  Sillerton  that  the  whilom  Lieutenant 
was  now  General  Hay.  For  some  reason  or  other, 
now  unknown,  and  (pieer  though  the  idea  may  seem, 
yet  the  good  folks  of  Sillerton  insisted,  in  an  over- 
flowing fit  of  fun  and  frolic,  on  raising  their  own 
peaceful  Hay  to  the  same  lank  wiLii  iiis  more  warlike 
namesake.  In  fact  he  ])e(!ame,  in  one  sense,  the 
military  hero's   "Double-ganger."    The  soi-disant 


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164 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


Lieutenant  Hay  of  Sillerton  became  eventually,  after 
passing  through  all  the  intermediate  gradations  of 
rank,  General  Hay,  and  General  Hay  he  remained  to 
the  end. 

.  He  never  resented  the  courtesy  that  gave  him 
rank,  and  responded  to  his  title  as  naturally  as  if 
he  had  won  it  on  the  field  of  battle.  He  was  a 
kindly  old  man,  and  ever  sent  us — small  boys — 
away  infinitely  pleased  with  our  reception,  and 
loaded  with  the  beautiful  treasures  of  his  gar- 
den. 

May  his  ashes  rest  in  peace  !  His  memory  to  me 
is  still  as  fragrant  and  fresh  as  the  sweet-scented 
roses  that  he  once  grew. 

The  Sillertonians,  though  brimful  of  fun,  yet  in- 
variably left  it  behind  them  when  they  visited  the 
resting-places  of  the  dead,  and  yet,  incongruous  as 
it  may  seem,  I  often  wonder  if  they  carved  the  name 
"  General "  on  his  tombstone  in  the  churchyard  of 
Sillerton. 

Having  begun  this  chapter  with  unmeasured  en 
logies  of  the  rose,  I  fear  that  the  un warlike  Gener.il 
Hay  led  me  away  from  njy  first  love,  and  that  the 
peculiar  circumstances  that  cjave  him  his  tinsel  rank, 
and  the  charms  of  a  peac<^ful  life,  that  made  him 
supremely  happy  amongst  his  flowers,  made  me  al 
most  forget  the  prominent  part  that  the  rose,  whether 


^nP  ■ 


TUE   WARS  OF  TUE  ROSES. 


165 


red  or  white,  or  damask,  played  in  ttie  Gardeners' 
ompetition  in  Sillerton. 
I  shall  at  once  acknowledge  the  guilt,  and  make 
the  only  reparation  in  my  power,  by  closing  this 
portion  of  my  reminiscences  in  the  following,  though 
very  slightly  altered,  lines  of  the  immortal  Keats  : — 

I  saw  the  sweetest  flower  wild  nature  yields — 
A  fresh-blown  musk  rose  ;  'twas  the  fii^st  that  threw 
Its  sweets  upon  the  summer  ;  graceful  it  grew 

As  is  the  wand  that  Quoen  Titania  wields. 

And  as  I  feasted  on  its  fragrancy 
I  thought  the  garden-rose  it  far  excell'd  ; 

But  when,  oh,  Hay  !  tliy  roses  came  to  me, 
My  sense  with  their  delioiousness  was  spell'd  : 

Soft  voices  had  they,  that  with  tender  plea, 
Whisper'd  of  peace,  and  truth,  and  friendlineai 
uuqueird. 


I 

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i 


106 


SCOTTiaU  FOLK-LORK, 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PBACTICAL  JOKERS   AT   WORK. 

Take  thy  beak  from  out  my  heart,  and  take  thy  form  from 
off  my  door. 

Quoth  the  raven,  "Nevermore." 

POE. 

While  not  going  quite  so  far  us  the  Aberdoniaii 
who  is  reported  by  Max  O'Rell  as  saying,  "  Tak 
awa  Aberdeen  and  a  few  miles  roun'  aboot  it,  and 
whar  are  ye  ?  "  I  yet  cannot  forget  tliat  in  the  shire, 
at  least,  of  Aberdeen  there  was  a  vast  amount  of 
that  species  of  wit  in  my  boyhood  days  that  found 
a  ready  outlet  in  practical  jokes,  as  I  have  had  oc- 
casion frequently  to  note  in  this  picture  of  Sillerton 
life  that  I  have  been  attempting  not  to  pauit  but  to 
reproduce. 

Protty  Sandy  Mackie  was  not  the  only  victim  that 
was  bagged  by  the  Sillerton  jokers,  but  I  shall  con- 
trive to  give  one  or  two  instances  that  came  under 
my  personal  observation,  and  which  I  shall  attempt 
as  well  to  narrate  within  reasonable  limits. 

That  the  village  store,  or  shop  as  it  was  then 


PRACTICAL  JOKERS  AT  WOIiK. 


167 


called,  should  be  a  common  rendezvous  on  a  Satur- 
day evening  goes  without  saying,  and  there,  accoid  • 
ingly,  both  buyers  and  sellers  convened ;  stories 
were  there  told,  and  there  practical  jokes  were 
sometimes  perpetrated  that,  as  we  shall  see,  occa- 
sionally left  indelible  marks  behind  them. 

The  shopkeeper,  or  merchant,  as  lie  was  designated 
in  those  days,  was  a  man  of  considerable  energy 
in  his  calUng,  and  did  not  confine  his  attention  al- 
together to  the  ordinary  style  of  doing  business. 
In  fact,  the  mercliant  came  of  an  enterprising  family, 
and  showed  it  in  more  than  one  way,  as  his  trans- 
actions proved.  One  Saturday  evening,  when  the 
store  was  pretty  full  of  customers — served  and  to 
be  served — Mr.  Baggs  informed  them  that  he  had 
made  a  fortunate  venture  in  the  way  of  foot-gear,  and 
in  consequence  was  prepared  to  sell  boots  at  a  price 
that  would  strike  (bunb  the  souters  of  Sillerton. 
The  goods  were  there  and  then  produced,  and  so 
well  did  they  look,  that  sales  to  a  considerable  ex- 
tent were  at  once  effected. 

A  near  relative  of  mine  was  there,  but  he  had 
made  no  purchases.  Being  asked  if  he  would  not 
invest  in  a  pair  of  boots,  he  stated  that  he  would 
rather  deal  in  a  different  way.  He  said  in  fact,  thjit 
he  would  much  prefer  to  take  his  boots  by  the  year, 
or,  in  other  words,  that  Mr.  Baggs  shouKl  tali  *  a 


i;  11. ill 


168 


SCOTTISH  FOLKLORE. 


twelve  months*  contract,  and  keep  him  in  foot-gear 
during  that  time  for  a  certain  amount,  the  said 
amount  to  be  then  and  there  agreed  on  between 
them. 

This  proposition  being  somewhat  novel,  was  re- 
ceived with  great  applause  by  the  crowd  generally, 
snul  was  at  once  favorably  entertained  by  the  mer- 
chant, whose  heart  was  considerably  opened  by  the 
number  of  sales  he  had  effetted  that  evening  and 
the  profits  realized. 

The  sum  was,  after  a  little  huj^^gling,  settled ;  the 
terms  were  agreed  to,  and  a  note  was  at  once  drawn 
U])  defining  the  terms  of  the  aji'reenient,  signed  and 
duly  witnessed.  T  remember  quite  well  one  or  two 
of  the  conditions.  One  was  that  a  boot  might,  if  it 
required  such  repairs,  be  only  twice  soled  and,  after 
the  second  soling  to  become  the  property  of  the 
wearer.  Another  was  that  no  patch  whatever  was 
to  be  jilaced  on  the  uppers,  but  that,  when  such  an 
operation  became  necessary,  the  dilapidated  boots 
were  to  be  returned  to  the  merchant  and  replaced 
by  a  new  pair. 

There  was  much  merriment  over  the  novel  con- 
tract, but  as  the  price  to  be  paid  seemed  large  for 
a  twelvemonths'  wear  of  boots,  the  laugh  was  clearly 
on  the  merchant's  side.  How  the  laugh  turned  to 
another  quarter  we  shall  presently  see. 


PRACTICAL  JOKEi:S  AT  W'OliK. 


109 


My  friend  was  employed  in  tiie  Guriocli  district 
jttiicoDsideriibledistaiu'o  from  Silierton  ;  Ik;  rotiirncd 
home  every  Saturday  evening,  and  I  usnally  went 
with  my  pnny  to  meet  him  the  greati'r  i)art  of  tlie 
w.iy,  when  we  contrived  to  get  home  by  tlie  well- 
known  process  of  "  Hide  and  Tie.  "  I  now,  howevei", 
got  instructions  to  no  longer  make  my  usual  Saturday 
trip,  as  my  friend  intended  walking  until  his  boot 
contract  was  finished. 

The  first  Saturday  niglit  came,  and  with  it  came 
Dick,  as  T  may  call  my  relative,  who,  after  supper, 
speedily  found  his  way  to  the  village  store  to  have 
his  boots  examined.  They  were  pronounced  sea- 
worthy by  the  referee,  but  there  weie  deep  traces 
of  tear  and  wear  that  went  to  Mr.  IJaggsMieart.  It 
was  evident  that  another  trip  beyond  Bennachie 
and  back,  with  nearly  a  week's  woik  thrown  in, 
would  change  considerably  the  rating  of  Dick's  boots. 
The  "A  1."  would  certainly  go  down  the  scale. 

Another  Saturday  night  came,  and  Dick  and  his 
boots  came  also.  The  weather  had  been  b.ad ;  the 
distance  to  be  traversed  w.is  long;  the  roads  were 
execrable,  and  the  fears  of  the  shopkeeper  were  fully 
realized,  for  two  new  soles  had  to  be  ordered  from  the 
village  cobbler,  while  Dick  marched  off  in  triumph 
with  his  feet  snugly  encased  in  another  pair  of  Mr. 
Baggs'  boots. 


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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

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170 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


It  is  needless  to  say  that  this  process  went  on  much 
ill  the  siiiDc  wjiy  till  the  end  of  the  twelve  months. 
Thestory  mcanlimo  had  got  wind,  and  every  young- 
ster who  could  find  an  excuse  for  purchasing  the 
suiallest  article  contrived  to  be  in  the  village  store 
just  about  the  hour  when  Dick  generally  put  in  an 
appearance,  and  almost  invariably  with  a  pair  of 
dilapidated  !)oots.  - 

Everybody  enjoyed  the  chagrin  of  poor  Baggs, 
who  was  the  butt  of  the  parii:h  for  a  twelvemonth 
and  more,  and  no  happier  man  was  there  in  Sillerton 
than  he  when  the  boot  contract  was  eventually  and 
finally  closed.  Curiosity  tried  hard  to  worm  out  of 
Baggs  the  exact  state  of  his  account  in  this  boot 
transaction,  but  the  village  shopkeeper  declined  to 
respond  ;  silent  was  l>aggs  as  a  very  oyster;  he  pre- 
ferred to  keep  his  own  secret,  and  the  village  book- 
keepers succeeded  in  arriving  only  at  an  approxi- 
mation. 

It  was  well  known,  however,  that  the  balance  was 
on  the  wrong  side  of  "  Profit  and  Loss, "  at  least  so 
far  as  Baggs  was  concerned.  Probably  a  Yankee 
might  have  guessed  that  the  boot  was  on  the  wrong 
leg.  The  only  one  that  had  reason  to  regret  the 
closing  of  the  boot-contract  was  my  pony  Donald. 

When  Baggs'  boots  ceased  to  be  worn  on  con- 
tract, Donald's  services  were  on  demand  once  more, 


PUACTICAL  JOKIJUS  AT  WORK. 


171 


5h 


and  Saturday  afternoons  now  found  him  no  longer 

enjoying  his  ease  in  liis  cosy  stall,  but  on  a  return 

trip  from  the  back  of  Hejinachie,  and  alternately 

carrying  on  his  back  his  light-weight  master,  and  :i 

somewhat  sturdier  rider,  who  no  longer  wore  boot  ; 

supplied  by  contract,  and  who  now  enjoyed  a  "lift  ' 

on  his  Saturday  trip  homeward.   After  all  Baggs  was 

only  a  little  in  advance  of  his  age,  and  was  a  true 

type  of  those  who  sell  everything,  from  a  "  needle  to 

an  anchor, "  and  who  would  feel  ashamed  were  they 

unable  to  supply  on  demand  an  umbrella  or  a  sentry 

box. 

"  He  had  a  fouth  o'  auld  nick-nackets, 
Rusty  aim  caps  and  jinglin'  jackets, 
Wad  baud  the  Lothians  three  in  tackets, 

Atowmont  guid, 
And  parritch-pats  and  auld  saut-baokett : 
Before  the  Flood." 


'        I 


» '  II 


'  ;  y 


■■Ml 


-''I 

i 


ii. 


I! 


172 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE, 


Ii 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    WINNING    LEG. 

Ae  market  night 
Tarn  had  got  planted  unco  right ; 
Fast  by  an  ingle  bleezin'  finely, 
Wi'  reaming  swats  that  drank  divinely, 

Tam  o'  Shanter. 

Had  I  the  intention  of  being  mysterious,  I  could 
scarcely  have  adopted  a  better  heading  to  this 
chapter  than  I  liave  done.  The  winning  card  might 
be  easily  understood,  even  in  the  quiet  village  of 
Sillerton,  where  a  friendly  rubber  was  played  by  the 
upper  ten  in  the  manse  parlor  or  in  the  gentleman- 
farmer's  drawing-room,  and  where  "  catch- the- ten  " 
was  the  favorite  game  amongst  the  lads  and  lasses 
of  the  parish,  with  a  touch  "  of  old  maid  "  now  and 
then  indulged  in,  just  to  vary  the  entertainment. 

The  winning  horse  might  also  be  understood, 
when  farmer  bodies,  with  sharper  spurs  in  their 
heads  than  on  their  heels,  occasionally  tried  the 
mettle  of  their  nags. 

But  the  winning  leg  was  out  of  the  ordinary  run 
of  the  village  vocabulary,  and  would  have  puzzled 


THE  Wr^NING  LEG. 


173 


a  Sillertonian  as  iiiuch  as  a  quadratic  equation  would 
have  done  a  celebrated  Aberdeen  professor,  who 
never  got  past  the  golden  rule  of  three,  but  whose 
fervid  eloquence  has  roused  Scotchmen  to  enthusi- 
asm from  John  O'Groats  to  wherever  Scotchmen 
are  known,  and  that  means  the  "  warr  ower." 

Well,  it  will  be  in  order  now  to  explain,  but  I 
claim  the  privilege  ot  telling  my  story  in  my  own 
way.  As  was  said  in  a  previous  chapter,  the  Inver- 
urie markets,  which  I  think  were  of  monthly  oc- 
currence, were  a  source  of  pleasure  and  profit  to  the 
business  folks  of  Sillerton,  and  groups  of  these, 
mounted  on  their  bob-tailed  nags  (for  the  blood 
horse  had  scarcely  yet  become  a  favorite  amongst 
our  rugged  hill  roads,  and  the  gig  or  phaeton  was 
put  into  requisition  only  when  ladies  were  in  the 
case),  were  to  be  scon  trotting  along  quietly  and 
doucely  towards  the  ancient  burgh. 

I  would  not  say  that  the  pace  homeward  in  the 
evening  was  quite  so  quiet  and  formal,  but  this 
might  be  easily  accounted  for  by  the  fact  known  to 
every  naturalist,  that  the  horse  on  the  home-stretch 
is  a  much  fleeter  animal  than  when  his  head  is  turned 
away  from  his  own  oat-bin. 

The  Rev.  Sydney  Smith,  of  happy  memoiy,  who 
lived  for  years  in  Edinburgh,  where  there  were  lit- 
erary giants  in  those  days,  and  who   yet  gravely 


■J 


■)    ('- 


i:    !'■   V- 


t    'I, 

.  :  ■  I 


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174 


btO  TT1.SI[  FOL  K-L OR E. 


V   ■■' 


f 


II 


ii;;5 


asserted  tliat  it  would  require  a  surgical  operation 
to  get  a  j<jke  into  a  Scotchman's  head,  was  a  close 
(jljserver  of  human  nature,  as  we  may  judge  by  the 
above  assertion,  and  carried  his  observations  also 
into  that  of  the  equine  family. 

Sydney  was  well  aware  of  this  propensity  of  the 
horse  to  hasten  towards  his  own  oat-bin,  and  so  or- 
dered it  that,  in  the  case  of  a  horse  he  i)0ssessed,  the 
oat-bin  should  be  ever  before  liim.  "  Calamity  "  had 
defied  all  efforts  of  whip  or  spur  to  accelerate  his 
movements,  and  Smith  at  last  hit  upon  tlie  happy 
expedient  of  fastening  a  small  vessel  containing  a 
feed  of  oats  upon  the  end  of  an  elongated  sliaft. 
This  worked  as  a  veritable  charm,  and  the  witty 
parson  was  borne  along  at  a  rattling  speed,  while 
the  very  sight  of  the  golden  giain  before  his  eyes 
stimulated  the  craving  steed  to  redouble  his  eft'orts 
to  overtake  every  moment  what  he  eventually 
reached  only  when  he  got  home. 

It  may  be  at  the  same  time  quite  possible  that 
what  added  to  Tam  o'  Shanter's  coui*age,  may  have 
helped  the  Sillerton  farmers  to  shorten,  at  least  by 
time,  the  trip  homewards  from  the  Inverurie  monthly 
market.  In  fact,  it  was  pretty  widely  known  that 
farmers  generally  returned  home  from  these  markets 
pretty  well  corned,  as  the  saying  was. 

Nor  was  it  looked  upon  as  in  any  way  strange 


THE  WINNING  LEG. 


175 


;> 


that  such  should  be.  Opinion,  indeed,  leant  exactly 
in  the  other  way.  I  once  heard  a  very  jieculiar 
exemplification  of  this.  A  well-to-do  farmer  was 
boasting  that  he  at  least  had  never  come  home  from 
;i  market  in  that  happy  and  exhilarated  state.  Ilis 
wife,  a  lady  of  the  highest  culture,  and  certainly  one 
of  the  leaders  of  fashion  in  the  parish,  but  withal 
possessed  of  a  considerable  amount  of  homely  Scotch 
humor,  very  naively  replied  to  her  husband's  boast, 
"  Well,  George,  and  if  you  did  sometimes,  I  would 
not  think  a  bit  the  less  of  you."  Did  it  follow  that 
she  would  have  thought  the  more  ? 

I  often  joined  the  cavalcade  as  a  matter,  not  of 
business,  but  of  pleasure,  and  if  I  did  not  learn  much 
about  the  price  and  quality  of  different  sorts  of  grain, 
nor  of  those  agricultural  questions  that  were  often 
keenly  discussed,  even  in  the  saddle,  I  yet  gleaned 
some  knowledge  of  human  nature,  that  may  have 
sometimes  helped  me  in  after-life. 

On  our  arrival  the  horses  were  usually  stabled  at 
a  well-known  hostelry  within  the  burgh,  and  there, 
towards  evening,  when  all  market  business  was  at 
an  end,  the  riders  met  to  enjoy  the  stirrup-cup  before 
mounting  their  nags  for  the  homeward  ride.  Maybe 
strict  veracity  might  suggest  that  cup  should  be 
used  in  the  plural  number,  as  there  were  occasions 
when  Tom  Ledingham^s  blend  rendered  it  some- 


a. 


:i 


II 


if^l  i 


176 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


■  '■?  i\ 


i  1 1 1 


what  difficult  to  leave  the  table  just  at  the  end  of 
the  first  tumbler.  Stories,  too,  did  not  always  (luite 
fit  the  emptying  of  the  glasses,  and  the  equalizinj^ 
of  the  two  things  often  cost  time  and  money  botli, 
when  an  "eke"  had  to  be  taken  to  get  ends  to  meet. 

One  evening  matters  were  precisely  in  this  stale, 
and  a  Sillertou  farmer,  to  twit  mine  host  of  tlie 
Elphinstone  Arms,  would  persist  in  telling  funny 
things  about  Inverurie,  and,  amongst  others,  a  story 
of  one  of  the  local  clergy  who  had  preached  lately 
in  the  neighboring  church,  very  soon  after  the  close 
of  a  keenly-contested  election  of  bailies  and  other 
officials  for  the  burgh. 

Things  had  not  gone  precisely  in  accordance  with 
the  minister's  political  views,  and  probably  he  would 
have  preferred  to  take  no  notice  whatever  of  the 
magistracy  that  now  sat  very  conspicuously  before 
him.  The  custom,  however,  was,  in  the  closing 
prayer,  to  pray  for  those  in  authority  over  us,  and 
custom  in  the  Auld  Kirk  was  like  a  law  of  the  Medes 
and  Persians,  "  it  altered  not."  The  minister  duly 
conformed  to  the  custom,  and  pray  he  did,  but  in  a 
way  that  doubtless  failed  to  excite  the  admiration  of 
the  subjects  of  his  supplications,  "God  bless  the 
Magistrates  o'  this  ancient  burgh,  sic  as  they  are." 

One  roar  of  laughter  from  the  Sillertonians 
greeted  this  anecdote,  and  mine  host  had  to  own 


TUE  wiNyiya  le(;. 


177 


that  the  tale  had  been  truthfully  told.  One  story 
led  to  another,  one  of  which  referred  to  feats  of 
strength  that  the  narrator  had  witnessed,  and  this 
probably  tempted  the  landloid,  who  was  a  man  of 
ponderous  dimensions,  to  wager  a  bottle  of  hot 
Scotch,  that  his  leg  would  measure,  round  the  calf, 
more  than  that  of  any  man  in  the  company.  At 
first  no  one  seemed  inclined  to  take  up  the  challenge, 
but  at  length  a  farmer  who  lived  near  us,  and  who 
was  certainly  the  smallest  man  in  the  room,  called 
out,  "  Tam,  I'll  tak'  your  bet,  man." 

Sim  Eddie  was  our  neighbor,  and  I  quietly  at- 
tempted to  dissuade  him  from  his  rash  offer,  but 
to  no  purpose.  He  was  resolute,  and  I  was  ap- 
pointed judge  or  umpire.  The  landlord's  leg  was 
produced  and  duly  taped,  and  from  appearances  no 
one  doubted  but  that  little  Sim  would  have  to  foot 
the  bill,  for  no  one  thought  that  he  could  possibly 
leg  it.  Nothing  daunted,  Sim  in  turn  presented  his 
leg  for  measurement,  but,  ye  gods !  what  a  leg  was 
there ! 

We  were  all  amazed,  and  any  measurement 
seemed  unnecessary,  but  yet  the  tape  had  to  do  its 
duty,  and  Eddie's  leg  took  two  inches  of  the  line 
more  than  Tom's.  This  settled  the  matter,  and  the 
bottle  of  hot  Scotch  was  a  free  stirrup-cup  to  the 
farmers  of  Sillerton, 


i '  '.I 


!  «. 


'I  t 


II  I 


tii 


178 


fiCOTTLiU  FOL K-LO li E. 


w 


t\ 


^  ,; 


1  'c 


As  we  rode  homeward  I  could  not  help  wonder- 
ing how  it  WHS  possible  that  so  small  a  man  should 
have  so  larj^e  a  leg,  and,  sidling  up  to  the  winner  of 
the  l)et,  I  plumped  the  question,  "  How  does  it  hap- 
pen, Sim,  that  you  have  so  big  a  leg?"  The  honest 
farmer  answered  me  at  once,  "  Weel,  laddie,  I'll  jist 
tell  you.  Ye'll  recollect  I  had  ance  the  scarlet 
fivver,  an'  got  a'  richt  again ;  bit  the  dregs  o't  settled 
in  that  leg.  That's  jist  it ;  bit  eh,  man,  wasna  I 
frichtened  that  I  wad  liae  to  exhibit  the  ither  ane, 
for  as  sure's  death  it's  a  perfect  spindleshank !  " 

The  reader  may  readily  conceive  the  merriment 
that  rose  at  the  explanation.  l}ut  the  joke  did  not 
end  here  exactly.  It  oozed  out  over  the  whole 
countryside,  for  Ledingham  v/as  well  known  through- 
out the  bounds  of  the  Garioch,  and  the  badgering  he 
got  over  that  leg- wager  was  enough  to  kill  any  ordi- 
nary man. 

It  worked,  however,  in  a  different  way  with  the  host 
of  the  Elphinstone  Arms.  In  fact,  Ledingham  nearly 
killed  two  commercial  travellers  who  had  carried 
their  quizzing  rather  far,  and  after  some  time  it 
came  to  be  understood  generally,  and  particularly 
amongst  the  farmers  of  Sillerton,  that,  in  the  matter 
of  the  "Winning  Leg,"  silence  was  golden,  and 
would  undoubtedly  prove  a  winning  card,  at  least  in 
one  of  the  hotels  in  the  neiojhborhood  of  Inverurie. 


THE  MINISTKH^S  CHRISTMAS  DINNER,      lid 


'■» 


CHAPTEK  XX. 


w- 


r 

■ 

it:     } 


THE    MINISTER  8    CHRISTMAS    DINNER. 

And  now  farewell  each  dainty  dish, 

With  sundry  sorts  of  sugared  wine  ! 
Farewell,  I  say,  fine  flesh  and  fish, 

To  please  this  dainty  mouth  of  mine  ! 
I  now,  alas,  must  leave  all  these, 
And  make  good  cheer  with  bread  and  cheese  ! 

—Breton. 

The  Rev.  Robert  Fordyce,  minister  of  Sillcrton, 
was  a  douce,  sober  man  in  every  way — the  last  man 
in  the  woi'ld  to  poke  fun  at  anybody,  and  the  very 
last,  certainly,  who  should  have  been  the  victim  of 
a  practical  joke.  Tlie  festive  season  was  now  ap- 
proaching, and  his  reverence  hud  been  duly  invited 
to  eat  his  sixtieth  Christinas  dinner  at  the  liospi- 
table  table  of  a  parishioner,  the  tenant  of  Milton. 

Invitations  in  those  days  did  not  contain  the 
cabalistic  letters,  "  R.S.V.P.,"  but  yet  tiie  Reverend 
Robert  had  forwarded  his  acceptance,  and  had  every 
intention  of  honoring  the  entertainment  with  his 
presence. 

The  guidwife  of  Milton  soared  soniewluit  above 
the  ordinary  run  of  farmers'  wives.     She  liad  seen 


li 


*,*■ 


'■  n 


■\ii  i 


'^  I!  li 


uc,  m 


i\ 


!     i.. 


180 


HSCOTTISU  FOLK-LORE, 


a  little  of  the  world  beyond  the  boundary  line  of 
Sillerton,  and  she  dearly  loved,  on  occasion,  to  see 
a  choice  company  enjoying  themselves  round  her 
groaning  mahogany.  And  so  the  minister  and  a 
few  other  favored  ones  were  invited  to  eat  their 
Christmas  dinner  at  Milton. 

But  here  it  behoves  us  to  introduce  another  char- 
acter upon  the  scene.  No  minister  was  ever  com- 
plete without  his  man,  and  even  the  Scriptural 
fox-tail  stoiy  could  scarcely  have  been  told,  witliout 
a  minister  to  preach,  and  a  minister's  man  to  whistle. 
Gentle  reader,  allow  me  to  introduce  to  you  John 
Sprot,  the  minister's  man.  John,  indeed,  was  no 
ordinary  man. 

From  boyliood  he  had  served  the  clergy,  and  if 
not  yet  arrived  at  the  years  of  discretion,  certainly 
from  the  influence  of  precept  and  example  he  should 
have  reached  that  goal  long  ago. 

John  had,  in  fact,  become  manse  and  glebe  prop- 
erty, and  in  that  capacity  had  described  a  circle,  a 
sort  of  ecclesiastical  circle,  throughout  tlie  bounds 
of  the  Presbytery,  until  he  now  found  himself  gen- 
eral managev  for  Mr.  Fordyce  of  Sillerton,  delving 
ic  the  manse  garden,  cultivating  the  glebe  generally, 
and  when  his  master,  who  was  no  Jehu,  held  his 
annual  "catechizing"  throughout  the  parish,  or 
once  on  a  while  accepted  an  invitatioD  to  dinner, 


TUE  MIS  IS  TEIV  s  C  Hit  Is  TMA  S  DINNER.      1 « 1 

driving  him  in  tlie  old  gig  that  liad  now  for  more 
than  a  quarter  of  a  century  been  the  admiration  of 
tlie  little  boys  of  Sillerton. 

But  just  here  the  question  naturally  arises — Why 
had  not  Sprot  settled  down  in  one  favored  spot? 
Why  was  John  still  a  rolling  stone  that  gathers  no 
moss?  Well,  there  is  a  delicacy  in  the  answer  that 
the  writer  of  this  humble  imrrative  feels  keenly,  but 
yet  the  truth,  the  >ober  truth,  must  be  told.     John 

Sprot   was,    in  fact,  a .     No,    I   don't   exactly 

mean  that,  but  while  Joliii  was  a  strong  advocate  of 
temperance,  yet  the  flesh  was  sometimes  weak,  and 
so  it  happened  iliat,  on  a  few  occasions,  John  hi  J 
been  what  Scotch  folks  kindly  call  "overtaken." 

The  consequence  of  this  was  that  when  his  i*ev- 
erence  then  weighed  his  man  in  the  scales  of 
sobriety,  and  found  him  \^'anting,  i)astures  new  had 
to  be  looked  for,  and  another  manse  door  closed 
behind  him  forever. 

During,  however,  one  of  John's  escapades,  an  acci- 
dent had  converted  one  of  his  seemly  legs  into  some- 
thing resembling  an  arc  of  a  circle,  and  while  this 
gave  him  a  most  peculiar  style  of  perambulation, 
even  in  his  soberest  seasons,  yet  it  was  generally 
believed  that  good  would  come  of  it,  and  that  his 
conduct  in  the  future  would  be  as  straight  as  his 
lower  member  was  crooked. 


1  I        ] 
t 


'I     :'^i 


i    il 


182 


SCOTTISU  FOLK-LORE. 


ii  m 


i    M:l 


A  whole  year,  last  Martinmas,  had  come  and  gone, 
a!]d  John  Sprot  was  still  the  minister's  man  of  Sil- 
leiton.  If  temptation  had  come,  it  had  evidently 
also  been  snccessfiilly  resisted,  and  the  more  ob- 
servant of  the  villagers  had  begun  to  express  an 
opinion,  that  John  might  close  his  earthly  career  in 
the  cosy  manse  of  Siilerton.  Alas !  how  weak  is 
human  nature  at  best — but  no,  we  must  not  antici- 
pate. 

The  day  of  Milton's  dinner-party  came,  and,  if 
great  preparations  were  made  by  the  guidwife  of 
iMilton,  the  minister's  man  was  far  from  idle. 
Under  the  genial  influence  of  soap-suds  and  an 
abundant  supply  of  elbow-grease,  the  ancient  gig 
had  actually  renewed  its  age,  and  the  old  gray, 
through  the  persuasive  action  of  a  new  curry-comb, 
had  parted  with  a  few  pounds  of  that  fur  which,  if 
it  increased  warmth,  at  the  same  time  very  mate- 
rially diminished  speed.  John  felt  somewhat  ex- 
hausted with  his  unwonted  exertions,  but  experienced 
a  keen  satisfaction  in  the  reflection  that  man,  horse, 
and  gig  were  ready  for  action. 

Seating  himself  upon  an  old  wheelbarrow  that 
stood  invitingly  near,  he  contemplated  with  con- 
siderable satisfaction  his  work,  and,  as  he  lighted 
his  pipe,  and  began  to  feel  the  influence  of  the  subtle 
narcotic,  he  felt  supremely  happy,  and  it  is  at  least 


TIJ}':  MINISTJ'Ji'6  CURISTMAS  DIN N Eli.       ISJi 


doubtful,  had  the  change  been  possible,  if  at  that 
moment  he  Avould  have  exchanged  places  with  the 
Reverend  Robert  Fordyce  of  Sillerton. 

Just  then  a  small  callant  that  ran  messages  about 
the  village  appeared  on  the  scene,  and  intimated  to 
JoiiU,  that  Marshal  Graham,  now  manager  of  the 
Sillerton  distillery,  requested  to  see  hiin  with  the 
least  possible  delay.  Graham  was  a  confirmed  prac- 
tical joker,  and  seldom  did  a  week  pass  without 
some  new  cantrip  on  his  part  that  set  the  whole 
country  side  roaring  with  laughter. 

Sprot,  impressed  with  the  seeming  importance  of 
the  message,  hesitated  not  for  a  moment,  but  at  once 
proceeded  to  the  office,  where  he  was  received  with 
marked  courtesy.  Graham  informed  him  with  the 
utmost  gravity  that  last  night  he  had  been  grossly 
insulted  by  the  land  steward,  James  Power,  and, 
knowing  John's  character  for  probity  and  caution, 
he  requested  him  to  carry  to  Power  a  note  demand- 
ing an  immediate  apology,  failing  which  he  said  he 
believed  the  matter  would  end  in  bloodshed. 

John  was  considerably  dumfounded  by  this  start- 
ling intelligence,  but  a  sense  of  the  confidence  placed 
in  him,  along  with  a  horn  of  Sillerton's  best  dew, 
nerved  him  for  his  delicate  mission,  and  awjiy  he 
went  to  deliver  the  somewhat  hostile  note.  Having 
read  the  threatening  message.  Power  pretended  to  get 


Hi 


.;  I! 


i  l|  Ij 


1        a  ! 


T 


i   ! 
I   ■ 

■f 


I 


ii 


ih'. 


1 


184 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


into  a  terrible  passion,  tearing  the  letter  in  pieces 
and  swearing  that  blood  alone  could  settle  the  dis- 
pute between  them.  A  reply  was  instantly  penned, 
and,  charged  with  another  horn  of  the  same  generous 
sedative  that  he  had  swallowed  only  a  few  minutes 
before,  John  soon  placed  Power's  note  in  Graham's 
hands. 

The  fact  was,  that  the  two  worthies,  knowing  that 
the  minister  was  due  that  evening  at  Milton,  con- 
ceived the  brilliant  idea  of  putting  John  Sprot  hors 
de  combat^  and  so  spoil  the  parson's  dinner,  seeing 
that  it  was  an  established  fact  that  the  old  gentle- 
man could  no  more  drive  a  horse  and  buggy,  than  lie 
could  have  directed  the  manoeuvres  of  an  ironclad. 

Back  and  forth  went  Sprot ;  letter  after  letter  was 
wiitten  by  the  two  belligerents,  horti  followed  horn 
with  the  now  decidedly  obfuscated  minister's  man, 
until  Milton's  Christmas  dinner  had  passed  from  his 
memory  like  a  flitting  dream.  The  bailey  bree  that 
makes  some  men  pugnacious,  only  softened  the 
teuderest  sensibilities  of  John's  heart. 

He  fancied  that  he  was  engaged  in  tlie  noble  work 
of  pouring  oil  on  troubled  waters;  witiiour  bis  in- 
dividual efforts,  human  blood  might  have  been  shed, 
and,  feeling  thus,  we  fear  the  malt  got  aboon  the 
meal ;  the  heartless  jokers  were  only  loo  successful, 
and  the  apostle  of  peace  fell  before  the  syren  bland- 


THE  MINISTER'S  CHRISTMAS  DINNER.       185 

ishments  of  Sillerton's  ripest — mellowest — purest 
mountain  dew. 

But  where  was  the  Reverend  Ilobert  Ft  rdyce  nil 
this  time?  He  had  seen  the  earlier  exertions  of  his 
faithful  servant ;  he  had  watched  from  the  manse 
windows  the  marked  progress  of  John's  work ;  the 
old  gray  looked  as  if  the  vagaries  of  colthood  might 
be  again  assumed;  the  antiquated  gig  reminded  the 
douce  parson  that  correct  truly  was  Keats  wlien  he 
penned  the  line : — 

*' A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  for  ever," 

and  dreaming  of  no  malign  influence  to  cross  his 
path,  he  resigns  himself  to  pleasing  waking  dreams 
of  many  a  merry  Christmas  that  he  had  seen  and 
kept,  before  the  manse  was  still  and  lonely  as  now  ; 
when  childish  voices  and  pattering  feet  ^ere  wont 
to  reach  unchallenged  his  own  quiet  snuggery,  and 
before  he  had  known  what  it  was  to  read  a  portion 
of  one's  own  history  on  the  mossgrown  stone  that  he 
could  even  now  see  from  the  study  window. 

But  dreaming  will  scarcely  clothe  the  minister  of 
Sillerton  for  his  Christinas  dinner.  And  so  he  besti  is 
himself  anew.  The  decent  broadcloth  becomes  his 
rounded  figure  well;  the  shirt  front,  heavily  ruflled, 
looks  like  the  driven  snow;  a  chain,  resplendent  with 
keys  and  seals,  passes  to  and  forth  across  his  breast ; 


'i  -.1 


180 


SCOTTISa  FOLK-LORE. 


m 


and  with  feet  encased  in  warm  overshoes,  and  closely 
buttoned  in  a  ponderous  overcoat  that  two  maiden 
daughters  arrange  lovingly  around  him,  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Fordyce  smiles  kindly  upon  his  surroundings, 
and,  passing  through  his  hall  to  the  gravelled  walk 
in  front,  takes  his  first  step  in  the  direction  of  his 
Cliristmas  dinner. 

But  where  was  Jolm  Sprot  now?  Where  the  ren- 
ovated gig  ?  Where  the  rejuvenated  gray  ?  The 
minister  j^eers  curiously  towaids  the  manse  stables, 
lie  sees  something  approaching,  but  not  precisely 
what  he  expected.  The  horse  and  gig  v/ere  just  as 
they  should  be,  but,  alas !  John  Sprot,  the  minister's 
man,  was  where  no  minister's  man  should  be,  at 
least  when  under  orders  to  drive  his  master  to  a 
Christmas  dinner.  , 

John  had  been  placed,  by  officious  hands  doubt- 
less, upon  the  back  of  the  gallant  gray,  but  there  was 
assuredly  a  bar-sinister  in  his  surroundings — his 
face  was  towards  tlie  tail,  and  two  callants,  who  had 
evidently  been  engaged  for  the  occasion,  were  trying 
as  best  they  could,  to  enable  the  driver  to  i)reserve 
his  equilibrium,  and  to  direct  at  the  same  time  the 
movements  of  the  astonished  gray  towards  the 
manse  door. 

One  gljvnce  at  the  strange  procession  was  enough 
for  the  minister,  who  quickly  sought  and  found 


THE  MINISTER'S  CHRISTMAS  DINNER.       187 


again  the  privacy  of  his  own  chamber  ;  the  now 
irate  maidens  divested  him  of  his  more  outside  cover- 
ings ;  the  immaculate  black  was  speedily  exchanged 
for  less  pretentious  garments ;  and  instead  of  the 
savory  turkey  and  ham,  with  all  the  et-ceteras  that 
flUed  and  adorned,  that  evening,  the  groaning  table 
of  the  tenant  of  Milton,  our  douce  minister  was  per- 
force  content  to  dine  on  a  cold  joint  that  had  done 
duty  on  the  manse  table  the  day  before. 

ITow  the  gig,  the  gray,  and  John  Sprot  (we  here, 
for  conscientious  reasons,  reverse  the  order  of  pre- 
cedence) found  their  due  and  allotted  places  I  know 
not.  1  do  know  that  John  awoke  the  day  after 
Christmas  "  a  sadder  but  a  wiser  man."  This,  how- 
ever, was  a  season  of  mutual  forbearance  ;  forgive- 
ness was  asked  and  found;  the  meny  wags  were 
inclined  to  own  that  they  luul  carried  the  joke  a 
little  too  far  ;  and  in  after-years,  when  the  Reverend 
liobert  Fordyce  dispensed,  on  special  and  favored 
occasions,  the  blessings  that  covered  his  own  table, 
he  sometimes  condescended  to  tell  the  story,  with  a 
slightly  sad  and  pensive  smile,  how  it  happened  that 
he  missed  his  ^lilton  dinner,  on  that  now  long-past 
Christmas  day. 

I  need  hardly  say  that  Sprot's  escapade  was  not 
so  quickly  forgotten  by  the  jovial  Sillertonians,  as  it 
was  forgiven  by  the  kindly  minister,  and  the  jokea 


M 


188 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE, 


that  were  cracked  on  the  occasion,  and  the  excruci- 
ating qnizzing  to  wliieh  John  was  subjected,  could 
scarcely  be  borne  by  the  victim  wiih  genuine 
equanimity. 

Tlie  fact  also  that  it  occurred  at  a  time  when  con- 
vivialities were  in  order,  drew  more  attention  to  it 
than  had  it  happened  at  a  busier  season,  and  often 
at  bachelor  dinners,  long  after,  have  I  heard  a  song 
sung,  recounthig  John's  Yuletime  adventure,  that 
local  talent  had  both  composed  and  set  to  music. 

There  were  three  stanzas  of  this  song,  two  of 
which  my  memory  had  faithfully  retained  ;  one  had 
irrevocably,  at  least  so  far  as  I  was  concerned,  passed 
away.  An  esteemed  correspondent,  however,  living 
near  the  locality,  and  who,  when  very  sliglitly 
prompted,  recollected  all  the  circumstances  of  the 
case,  sent  me  the  missing  verse — strange  to  say, 
the  only  one  he  could  call  to  mind.  I  am  tlius  able 
to  supply  the  three  verses,  wnich,  perhai)s,  are 
curious  enough  to  prove  of  interest  to  individuals 
fond  of  "folk-lore." 

The  music  I  am  unable  to  give ;  I  believe  it  was 
as  original  as  the  song.  The  loss  of  this,  at  the  same 
time,  is  less  to  be  regretted  as  the  poetic  effusion  is 
not  likely  to  occupy  a  place  on  the  programmes  of 
many  "musical  entertainments." 

I  give  the  song,  chorus,  etc.,  as  I  heard  them  of 


THE  MINISTER' S  CIIUISTMAS  DLWyi'Jli.        189 

old,  only  eliminating  a  few  words  tliiiL  veie  slightly 
harsher  than  modern  taste  is  now  inclined  to 
employ: — 

JOHN  SPROT. 

Great  Johnny  Sprot,  the  parson's  man's 

A  man  o' muckle  pith,       " 
Wi' his  fall,  hill,  derattle.  tall, 

Fall,  lall,  deday  ! 
Gin  ye  except  the  crookit  leg, 

He's  soun'  in  limb  an'  lith, 
Wi' his  falMall,  derattle,  tall, 

Fall,  lall,  deday  ! 

As  Johnny  Sprot  gaed  o'er  the  burn, 

He  tram  pit  on  a  snail, 
Wi' his  fall,  lall,  derattle,  tall, 

Fall,  lall,  deday  ! 
Then  up  got  Johnny's  crookit  leg, 

An'  in  the  burn  he  fell, 
Wi'  his  fall,  lall,  derattle  tall. 

Fall,  lall,  deday  ! 

The  minister  cam'  stappin,  oot, 

Says,  "  John,  far  are  ye,  man  ? 
Wi'  yer  fall,  laU,  derattle,  tall, 

Fall,  lall,  deday!" 
Says  John.  "  I've  trampit  on  a  snail, 

An'  d me  bit  I've  faan, 

Wi'  my  fall,  lall,  derattle,  tall, 

Fall,  lall,  deday  !  ' 


Si  **■ 

I- 

I!' 


J  ^? 

\  »  it 


m 


^ 


1 


li)0 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LOBE. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

sillerton's   burdens. 

Go,  therefore,  now,  and  work  ;  for  there  shall  no  straw 
be  given  you,  yet  shall  ye  deliver  the  tale  of  bricks. 

Hie  Israelites  in  Eg yjjt. 

I  RECOLLECT  distinctly  an  old  friend  of  mine  illus- 
trating well  the  remark  that  we  have  all,  in  some 
respect  or  other,  something  to  trouble  us. 

Two  elders  of  the  kirk  were  engaged  in  a  fiiendly 
controversy,  one  urging  that  we  all  have  some 
trouble,  the  other  as  stoutly  insisting  that  some 
seemed  to  have  no  care  whatever.  During  the  dis- 
cussion of  the  knotty  question,  which  occurred  as 
they  walked  along  the  road,  a  well-known  "  feel  " — 
Jamie — hove  in  sight. 

"  Now,"  said  the  one  elder,  "  I  am  ready  to  wager 
that  Jamie  has  no  troul)le  in  this  world  v/hatevei'." 
The  other  as  doggedly  disbelieved  this,  and  mean- 
while the  "feel"  drew  near.  "  Xoo,"  says  he  who 
believed  in  Jamie's  perfect  happiness,  "hae  ye  ony- 
thing  to  trouble  ye,  Jamie  ?  "  "  Fint  a  thing,"  quoth 
Jamie,  and  was  passing  on.    "  Bide  a  vree,"  says  the 


T 


SILLER  TON' S  B  URDENS. 


191 


other ;  "  is  there  iiaething  ava,  Jamie,  that  bothers 
ye  ?  "  "  Weel,"  repUes  the  "  feel,"  "  John  Tamsoirs 
bubbly  jock  leads  me  sometimes  a  sair  time  o't  ftii 
Tm  gaen  up  the  road."  "  Ah  ! "  said  the  believer  in 
universal  sorrow, "  ye  see  everybody  has  his '  bubbly- 
jock.'" 

Gentle  reader,  this  axiom  or  postulate  was  true 
also  of  Sillerton,  for  Sillerton  undoubtedly  had  its 
"  bubbly  jock."  I  do  not  here  refer  so  much  to  the 
village,  in  this  case,  but  rather  to  tlie  farmers  of  the 
parish.  It  was  true  tluit  the  villagers  had  found  no 
royal  road  to  affluence,  nor  did  they  expect  to  find 
it.  They  earned  little,  but  their  '*>'ants  were  in  pro- 
poi'tion  to  their  means,  and  many  of  them,  no  doubt, 
felt  like  a  celebrated  Xew  York  divine,  who.  Socrates- 
like, was  accustomed  to  stand  periodically  before 
one  of  the  magnificently-filled  windows  of  Broad- 
way, and  fervently  thank  the  Lord  that  there  were  so 
many  things  in  that  window  th;it  he  could  do  without. 

Now  the  plain  folks  of  Sillerton  felt  like  the  par- 
son, without  requiring  to  see  the  window.  Certainly, 
in  their  case,  whore  ignorance  was  bliss  'twere  folly 
to  be  wise,  and  thejMvere  ignorantat  least  of  greater 
wants,  and  hence  were  contented. 

But  amongst  the  farming  community  there  was 
a  slightly  altered  state  of  things.  The  common 
laborer  scarcely  hoped  to  lay  past  more  than  the 


t  ■. 


;  I 


Mi   I 


I    :       -! 


iM: 


I 


If. 


11;2 


aCOTTISU  FOLK-LOliE. 


merest  trifle  for  a  rainy  day.  The  farmer  aspired 
to  something  higher.  He  employed  capital  in  his 
efforts  to  live,  and  he  expected,  not  only  to  be  able 
to  pay  his  half-yearly  rent,  but  also  to  iiave  some- 
thing besides  on  the  right  side  of  the  "profit  and 
loss"  account.  Xor  was  the  farmer,  on  many  of 
the  larger  estates,  disappointed  in  his  expectations. 

It  is  related  that  Lord  Aberdeen  (the  Premier 
Earl,  I  mean),  when  he  met  Her  Majesty  on  her  way 
to  visit  him  at  Haddu  House,  was  accompanied  by 
about  four  hundred  horsemen.  The  Queen  inquired 
who  they  were,  and  was  informed  that  they  were  a 
portion  of  his  tenantry.  Expressing  surprise  that 
farmers  could  be  so  well  mounted,  his  lordship  ex- 
plained that  he  would  be  ashamed  to  have  a  tenant 
on  his  estate  who  could  not  afford  to  keep  as  good  a 
horse  as  he  owned  himself. 

On  the  Richmond  and  Gordon  property  also  a  like 
liberal  policy  prevailed,  and  indeed  on  many  or  most 
of  the  large  estates ;  but  on  smaller  properties 
things  were  managed  in  a  different  way,  and  if 
there  were  wanting  the  Irish  "middleman,"  yet  Me 
small  Scotch  laird  extracted  from  his  almost  help- 
less tenant  a  considerably  larger  "  tale  of  bricks" 
than  that  to  which  he  was,  in  right  and  justice,  en- 
titled ;  and  hence  the  anxiety  and  care  and  actual 
suffering  that  were  so  often  the  farmer^s  lot,  and 


SILLERTON'S  BURDENS. 


VJi 


which  were  the  natural  cotiDequences  of  that  iniqui- 
tous system  of  "  itick-i-ent "  that,  alas !  was  so 
prevalent. 

In  Sillerton,  successful  fanning  was  difficult  of 
realization.  Rents  wei'e  confessedly  high— [Kjrhaps 
a  little  XajC)  high — but  the  so-called  Game  Laws  were 
the  veritHble  "  bubbly- jock "  of  tire  parish.  No 
farmer  on  the  estate,  or  in  the  parish,  whicli  in  this 
case  were  synonymous  terms,  had  the  right  to  keep 
even  a  collie  dog ;  no  farmer  was  allowed  to  use  a 
gun  over  his  farm ;  and  no  farmer  might  trap  or  kill 
a  hare  or  even  rabbit,  under  any  circumstances  what- 
ever— MO,  not  in  his  own  kail-yard. 

Nor  was  this  merely  a  negative  condition,  for  by 
the  terms  and  conditions  of  his  lease,  he  was  bound 
to  protect  tliese,  and  woe  to  him  who  failed  to  fulfil 
his  duty  in  this  respect. 

Wei'e  I  imbued  with  the  genius  of  a  Mark  Twain 
or  an  Artemus  Ward  I  might  ^)ause  here  simply  to 
moralize,  and  prove  that  the  good  Laird  of  Sillerton 
was  acting  only  in  a  true  Christian  spirit,  and  that 
his  leases,  small  (xxlicils  to  the  Gospels,  made  his 
tenants  better  Christians,  in  that  they  were  not  only 
admonished,  but  even  compelled,  to  love  their  ene- 
mies the  rabbits,  and  to  do  good  to  evtn  the  lower 
animals  that  never  ceased,  night  or  day,  to  eat  them 

out,  root,  stock,  and  branch. 
13 


n 


in 


m 


VJi 


.SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


Personal  tiistes  also  may  have  influenced  the  leases, 
for  the  Laird  was  an  ardent  lover  of  game  :  he  did 
not  enjoy  wandering  for  hours  over  his  preserves 
without  filing  a  shot,  and  he  had  as  little  wish  to 
see  his  invited  guests  subjected  to  a  like  trying 
experience. 

The  expression  "  invited  guests  "  leads  me  to  note 
the  fact,  that,  so  far  as  parishioners  were  concerned, 
no  one,  no  matter  his  education  or  social  status,  was 
ever  invited  to  cast  a  fly  upon  the  rippling  waters 
of  the  "Bonnie  Don,"  to  try  his  luck  with  a  fresh- 
run  salmo  sahir,  nor  had  he  ever  the  chance  to  bag 
a  snipe  or  moorfowl  in  the  company  of  the  Laird 
and  his  guests,  the  latter  of  whom  came  generally 
from  England  to  spend  a  short  holiday  among  the 
heather,  or  who  belonged  to  the  more  aristocratic 
families  of  the  district. 

A  few  boys  about  the  village  plied  their  trouting 
rods  over  one  or  two  mill-dams  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  were  never  challenged  for  doing  so,  but  liad  we 
ventured  a  cast  on  the  Don,  we  should  have  soon 
come  to  grief  at  the  hands  of  the  game-keepers. 

We  also  contrived  to  make  respectable  baskets 
occasionally  by  a  process  we  called  "knittlin"' — 
probablv  the  boys  call  it  "tickling"  now.  We  lay 
down  on  our  faces  close  to  a  narrow  stream,  spread- 
ing out  our  arms  to  their  utmost  stretch,  and  while 


sjLLi:inos\s  nviiDEXs. 


ior> 


'ing 


ikets 


drawing  tliem  togctlKi*,  below  tlio  bjiiik,  wo  tVll 
gently  for  trout,  until  our  fingers  creeping  heiul- 
wards,  reached  tlic  gills.  'IMiis  point  reiiclied,  llu'y 
closed  like  a  vice  upon  the  victim,  and  the  finny 
beauty  was  transferred  to  the  creel. 

This  was  a  small  privilege  that  the  Laird  allowed 
US,  and  yet  it  was  of  considerat.le  value  afterwards 
to  the  boys  who  enjoyed  it.  We  manufactured  our 
own  rods;  we  conslructe<l  our  own  reels —"pirns" 
we  called  them  then;  we  wove  our  own  hairlines; 
and  with  a  peculiar  knot,  deftly  tied,  wc;  niado  our 
own  casting  lines.  Nay,  more,  we  prepared  our  own 
flies. 

To  the  skill  we  a(Hpiired  in  doing  these  things  I 
have  often  been  indebted  when  some  dire  mishap 
broke  in  pieces  our  "tackle  "  on  some  lone  Canadian 
lake,  wheie  many  miles  of  weary  portage-road  sepa- 
rated us  from  skilled  labor,  or  when  the  coquettish 
trout  refused  to  be  lured  by  a  fly  that  had  changed 
from  bright  scarlet  to  deep  blue,  until  the  exaspc.'r- 
ated  jingler  began  to  assume  the  color  of  his  own 
spurious  fly. 

On  such  occasions  an  hour  of  work — handicraft,  I 
should  say — learned  on  the  banks  of  the  Clyon-dam, 
made  rods,  reels,  or  lines  as  good  as  new,  while  a  few 
tufts  of  the  feathers  of  the  scarlet  Ibis,  replacing 
the  dismal  blues,  soon  changed  the  aspect  of  affairs ; 


'1 


I  ■ 


; 


II 


TTmrrr 


l  !  i 


iV: 


1 


't 


*S| 


I'!- 


196 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LOME. 


the  fisher's  sun  of  Austerlitz  shone  out  once  more ; 
the  sweet  music  of  the  reels  began  to  ring  again  in 
our  ears,  and  the  speckled  beauties  of  lake  or  stream 
quickly  exchanged  their  native  element  for  the  sliady 
corner  that  had  been  prepared  for  them  in  our  birch- 
bark  canoes. 

It  may  not  be  out  of  place  also  to  own,  that  while 
neither  the  village  nor  the  parish  sportsmen  weie 
invited  to  join  the  battue  which,  at  the  proper 
season,  was  held  on  our  hills,  and  amongst  our  tree- 
covered  and  bushy  "heughs  and  hows,"  yet  the 
youths  of  the  village  had  a  way  of  obtaining  sport, 
without  any  invitation  whatever. 

When  we  wanted  a  white  or  black  rabbit — and 
such  were  occasionally  seen  in  the  warrens — we 
seldom  failed  to  find  what  we  wanted ;  and  with  a 
couple  of  boys  on  each  side  of  a  "dry-stane  dyke,'' 
with  eyes  as  keen  as  a  pointer's  nose,  we  generally 
succeeded  in  currying  home  a  few  trophies  of  the 
chase.  We  conducted  our  operations  in  rabbit- 
hunting,  however,  on  the  still  pnnciple ;  we  co- 
operated together,  not  by  words,  but  by  signs,  and 
we  never  reached  our  homes  until  our  distended 
jackets  would  no  longer,  in  the  growing  darkness, 
be  likely  to  attract  attention,  while  the  few  stones 
that  we  had  displaced  in  securing  oiir  game  were 
more  likely  to  be  charged  to  the  ruthless  hand  of 


iilLLERTOy'S  BURDENS. 


197 


time,  than  to  any  action  that  might  be  deemed  an 
infraction  of  the  Game  Laws. 

Some  owners  of  game  lands  were  not  so  conserv- 
ative as  he  of  Sillerton,  and  occasionally  gave  their 
tenantry,  or  at  least  a  mmiber  of  them,  ail  oppor- 
tunity of  trying  their  skill  with  the  hares,  rabbits, 
and  moor-fowl.  This  was  considered  a  great  com- 
pliment, and  was  heartily  enjoyed  by  the  partici- 
pants in  the  sport. 

I  am  compelled  to  own,  also,  that  I  have  known 
invitations  issued,  T  do  not  mean  in  Sillerton,  not 
exactly  to  afford  the  tenantry  a  day's  pleasant  out- 
ing, but  to  give  the  gamekeepers  an  opportunity  of 
marking  individuals  who,  through  skill  in  nshigthe 
gun,  and  other  "wrinkles"  that  indicate  the  sports- 
man, might  be  considered  dangerous  to  game  pre- 
serves, and  who,  in  consequence,  might  be  judiciously 
shadowed.  Fov  the  correctness  of  this  statement, 
I  shall  relate  a  short  anecdote  in  illuhtration. 

One  siutumn  I  was  spending  a  few  holidays  with 
a  well-to-do  fanner,  not  far  from  the  Vale  of  Alford. 
Theie  was  a  prearranged  meeting  of  the  Chess  Club 
of  the  district  on  hand,  and  we  played  chess  for 
about  three  days;  I  might  be  nearer  the  truth  by 
saying  three  days  and  nights.  At  last  I  struck  work 
at  the  chess  board,  and  told  my  host  that  there  was 
no  more  chess  for  me  for  the  next  week.    I  said 


■:  n 


1     i 
1      ,j 
1 

J 1 

198 


SaOTTISU  FOLK-LORE. 


this,  I  believe,  as  if  I  meant  it.  "  Weel,"  said  my 
accommodiitiiig  friend,  "  try  the  gun  insteed.  I  hae 
the  richt  fiae  the  laird  to  sheet  ower  the  haill  fairm." 
I  looked  surprised  that  he  should  have  the  privilege 
of  shooting  over  his  farm,  which,  along  witli  a  hun- 
dred acres  or  so  of  good  arable  land,  included  with- 
in its  boundary-line  a  very  large  expanse  of  hill  land, 
where  he  fed  a  few  hundred  sheep. 

My  expressed  surprise  was  satisfied  with  the  fol- 
lowing explanation,  which  I  shall  repeat  in  his  own 
words,  if  possible : — "  Ye  see,  oor  laird  disna  aften 
tribble  his  estates  wi'  his  presence,  bit,  aboot  twa 
years  sinsyne,  he  cam'  doon  frae  Lunnun,  an'  efter 
an  ook's  leesure,  he  sen's  oot  invitashuns  to  ilk 
ane  o'  his  tenants  for  a  day's  sheetin'.  My  neebor 
Whitie  an'  niysell  gat  invitashuns  like  the  lave,  bit 
we  jaloosed  tluit  there  wis  something  in  the  tiding 
that  we  didiia  jist  clearly  unerstan',  and  sae  we 
keepit  at  liamo.  Weel,  the  upshot  wis  that  the 
keepers,  cannie  chiels,  pat  their  keel  on  a'  the  loons 
that  were  gey  skeelie  wi'  the  gun,  while  Whitie  an' 
I  gat  permits  to  sheet  whenever  we  liked." 

I  need  scarcel}^  say  that  I  gladly  availed  myself 
of  Newkeig's  "  permit,"  and,  in  consequence,  made 
a  few  good  bags  along  the  heathery  sidles  of  the  great 
Grampian  range. 

The  jealous  care  exercised  by  the  Laird  of  Silloi  - 


SILLER  Toy  S  n  I  It  DEXS. 


199 


ton  over  the  preservation  of  his  game,  and  the  un- 
limited means  at  his  disposal  of  increasing  their 
numbers  indefinitely,  could  end  only  in  one  result. 
That  which  happened  in  Auslralia  in  later  years 
with  imported  rabbits,  which  multiplied  to  such  an 
extent  as  to  jeopardize  the  crops  of  those  portions  of 
the  Colony  where  they  had  been  placed,  happened 
long  before  in  Sillerton. 

The  red  deer  could  occasionally  be  seen  browsing 
amongst  the  grain  and  turnips ;  the  beautiful  and 
fleet  roe  might,  every  hour  of  the  day,  gladden  the 
heart  of  a  Landseer  had  he  decided  to  extend  his 
professional  rambles  to  the  parish  of  Sillerton ;  and 
hares  and  rabbits,  moor-fowl  and  black-cock  fed, 
and  sported,  and  crowed  as  if  the  better  part  of  the 
parish  were  their  own.    And  so  it  was. 

Forty  or  fifty  hares  were  often  to  be  seen  at  ove 
time,  and  on  one  turnip-field;  the  grouse  came  in 
clouds  to  claim  their  share  of  the  harvest;  the  deer 
were  almost  as  tame  as  sheep,  as  they  browsed  on 
the  richest  pastures  of  the  farm  ;  and,  to  crown  all, 
flocks  of  pheasants,  housed,  tended,  and  fed  and 
pampered  with  assiduous  care,  often  left  a  field  of 
grain  almost  as  worthless  as  if  a  hurricane  had 
swept  over  it.  And  he  who,  by  every  ?'iu^ht  under 
heaven,  owned  those  pastures,  who  sowed  them,  and 
who  should  have  reaped  those  fields,  would  Ikin  t*  a.i 


I  P 


I     I 


200 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


soon  thought  of  joiuing  i^  Guy  Fawkes  iu  a  new 

Gunpowder  Flot,  asj  of  fiaiijg  oU  a  blunderbuss, 

or  even  a  pengun,  to  drive  the  voracious  harpies 
away. 

It  is  true  that  the  Laird  a»d  his  friends  made,  at 
the  proper  season  of  the  year,  heavy  bags  on  the 
fields  and  moors;  it  is  true  that  a  few  bucks  occa- 
sionally bit  the  dust  before  the  unerring  tube ;  it  is 
true  that  as^  mauy  as  thirty  thousand  rabbits  liad 
been  trapped  or  shot  in  tlie  parish  during  one  year, 
and  yet  there  was  no  appreciable  relief  to  the  poor 
gajue-eateu  farmer. 

One  tenant  alone,  a  gentleman  born  and  bred, 
resisted  the  good  Laird,  and  attempted  to  protect 
his  crops  iiDU]  tiie  ravages. of  the  rabbits.  Alas  !  in 
vain.  Ilis  farm  was  intersected  by  belts  of  wood- 
land, iunongst  which  to  enter,  to  follow  up  his  de- 
stroyers, would  be  counted  a  trespass  and  i^unish- 
able  by  a  fine;  detectives  were  i)laced  to  mark  if  the 
obnoxious  tenant  overstepped  the  limits  of  his  own 
farm,  and,  after  a  time,  a  conviction  of  hopelessness 
came  over  him,  and  his  futile  attempts  at  self-pres- 
ervation ceased. 

His  lease  came,  a  year  or  two  after,  to  a  close,,  and 
the  farm  was  no  longer  for  him;  the  gentleman 
farmer  did  not  thrive  und^r  the  Upas  shadow  of  the. 
Laird  of  Sillerton ;  a  fitter  and  more  plastic  ten- 


SILLEIi Toy  S  n  UHDEXS. 


201 


Wt  was  fouadi  iii  a  luitnnie  that  wore  a  Kilinaniock 
bonnet  on  Sunday,  and  wiio,  it  was  niidcitstood,  liad 
made  affidavit  that  he  had  never  tired  a  gun  in  liis 
life. 

In  consequence  of  damage  received,  and  foi-  whi(  li 
no  compensation  could  be  recovered,  leases  we-.e 
often  abandoned,  but  then  only  after  the  wolf  was 
at  the  door,  and  few  leit  Sillerton  of  their  own  ac- 
cord, without  having  met  with  losses  through  ilie 
abuse  of  the  Game  Laws — losses  that  had  crip[)led 
their  fiiuinces  for  years,  aye,  sometimes  for  life. 

Things,  I  believe,  have  chattged,  even  in  Sillerton. 
Tlie  geutlest  creature  that  God  has  created,  when 
driven  to  bay,  will  at  least  put  forth  an  effort  in 
self-defence,  and  downtrodden,  long-suffering  Siller- 
ton awoke  at  length  from  slumbers  that  had  con- 
tinued too  long. 

Men  were  at  last  found  willing  to  "  bell  the  cat," 
the  bundle  of  sticks  was  repeated,  joint  action  did 
much  to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  the  game-eaten 
farmer;  competition  for  farm  leases  lessened  as  the 
channels  of  emigration  widened,  and  theJnggernant 
of  "  Game  Protection  '*  that  once  rolled  over  a  thou- 
sand Sillertons  throughout  Scotland,  crushing,  maim- 
ing, grinding  beneath  its  mighty  wheels  many  a 
noble  and  manly  heart,  many  a  sorrowing,  despair- 
ing woman,  many  a  suffering  child,  lies  low  as  that 


11 


I 


H 


I      ;»: 


202 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


Dagon  that  once  fell  crushed  and  broken  before  the 
Ark  of  God. 

Well  might  our  children  ask  us  if  such  things 
could  have  been  ;  and  well  might  strangers  wondei* 
whether  or  not  the  narrator  of  Sillerton's  "  burdens  " 
was  indulging  in  dismal  romances,  instead  of  delin- 
eating a  truthful  tale. 

Simple  truth  was  promised  in  my  preface,  and 
simple  truth  alone  fills  every  chapter,  and  fills  this 
chai)Lei'  ;is  well. 

On  liiuts  too  well  known  I  take  my  stand,  and  defy 
contradiction  of  any  kind,  and  from  any  quarter. 

Tiiere  are  hundreds  of  witnesses,  still  in  the  prime 
of  life,  who  could  corroborate  every  syllable  I  have 
written  here,  and  were  I  standing  now  in  that  "  Auld 
Kirkyaid,"  I  might  point  to  more  than  one  grave 
and  say — Had  the  whole  truth  been  carved  on  these 
humble  stones,  their  story  might  have  read  thus : — 

"done  to  death 

BY 

THE  LAIRD  OP   SILLERTON 
AND 

HIS  game!" 


,'•  ■>::» 


».F.«*-.    ^.ij'jjg 


>'.f..'  x''r  ■      *l 


soy-iMiiuaioN, 


208 


r 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


NON-INTRUSIOX — THE  XTGHT  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE. 

Oh  !  what  a  parish,  a  parish,  a  parish  ! 

Oh  1  what  a  parish  was  drucken  Dunkeld  1 
They  hang'd  the  minister,  droon'd  the  precentor, 

Pull'd  doon  the  steeple,  and  fuddl'd  the  bell. 

Old  Song. 

I  HAVE  no  intention  whatever  of  entering  into  the 
arena  of  Church  politics  that  agitated  Scotland  for 
many  years  prior  to  the  "  forties,"  and  which  in  1843 
culminated  in  what  has  been  called  the  Disruption. 

It  was  certainly  a  hardship  that  any  patron  exer- 
cising the  right  of  patronage  over  a  church  or  churches 
possessed  the  power  of  giving  the  cure  of  souls  in 
the  Church,  where  he  exercised  this  right,  to  any 
probationer  to  whom  the  Presbytery  had  given  a 
licence  to  preach  the  Gospel,  and  whose  life  had 
been  unpointed  at  by  the  finger  of  scandal. 

It  might  have  indeed  been  urged  that  it  was  almost 
impossible  for  any  one  to  enter  the  inner  courts  of 
the  Church  of  Scotland,  who  was  unacquainted  with 
those  marks  of  erudition  that  had  been  considered 
indispensable  in  completing  the  education  of  the 
scholar  and  the  gentleman. 


y 


■!  i 


I      I 


204 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


m 


It  might  fairly  enough  have  been  held,  that  no 
one  of  immoral  character  could  continue  to  inscribe 
himself  a  probationer  of  the  Kirlc ;  and  it  was 
specially  provided  that  the  ministers  of  the  Church 
of  Scotland  iiad  to  ])e,  like  the  Paschal  lamb,  with- 
out blemisli.  And  yet,  notwitlistandinj^  such  safe- 
guards, it  was  quite  possible  that  one  miglit  be  forced 
upon  a  cons^regation  who  was  obnoxious  to  the  great 
majority  of  those  who,  in  the  event  of  his  settlement 
over  them,  must  of  necessity  listen  to  his  teachings, 
and  pay  due  respect  to  him  as  their  spiritual  adviser. 

This  undoubtedly  was  a  state  of  things  most 
devoutly  to  be  avoided,  but  for  all  that,  it  may  liave 
occasionally  happened. 

It  was,  however,  as  unquestionably  true  that 
sometimes,  and  more  particularly  near  the  period  of 
the  Disruption,  extraordinary  external  influences 
were  often  brought  to  bear  to  induce  Church  mem- 
bers to  ostracize  a  presentee,  who,  had  no  such  in- 
fluence been  employed,  would  have  quietly  entered 
into  possession  of  the  duties  and  emoluments  of  his 
office  without  any  hitch  whatever.  Sillerton  had 
changed  somewhat  ecclesiastically  since  the  days 
when  Louis  Alexander  Daff  failed  to  put  in  an 
Appearance  in  his  father's  pulpit.  Both  sire  and  son 
had  ceased  from  their  labors,  and  church  and  school 
were  occupied  by  strangers. 


Noy-iNTiirsiox. 


205 


The  Reverend  Robert  Fordyce  whom  we  have  oc- 
casionally met  before  this  in  this  narrative,  was  a 
quiet,  unassuming  man,  quite  satisfied  w  ith  tilings  as 
they  were,  and  by  no  means  of  that  volatile  nature 
that  the  smallest  spark  of  excitement  mijjht  fan  into 
flame. 

Non-intrusion,  therefore,  did  not  make  mucli  prog- 
ress in  the  parish,  and,  with  the  exception  of  a 
friendly  discussion  of  the  question  in  the  shoe- 
maker's workshop  or  the  more  commodious  smitljy? 
we  knew  remarkably  little  about  events  that  were 
bringing  some  sections  of  the  religious  world  to  an 
incandescent  heat. 

That  Mr.  Fordyce  would  stick  to  the  Establish- 
ment went  without  saying,  and  as  the  Laird  would 
not  allow  a  tenant  to  harbor  even  a  collie  dog  for 
fear  of  disturbing  the  game,  it  was  not  at  all  likely 
that  he  would  give  much  countenance  to  men  who 
were  wielding  every  influence  in  their  power  to  upset 
the  present  state  of  things.  One  or  two  "  Week- 
lies" came  to  the  parish,  but  few  conned  their  pages, 
and  these  few  were  not  very  favorable  to  the  advo- 
cates of  change. 

A  considerable  revolution  had,  however,  taken 
place  in  our  educational  department.  The  old  type 
of  dominie  had  passed  away,  and  a  new  one  had 
come  in,  lacking  many  of  the  peculiar  characteristics 


i! 


Pi 


ii      Mi 


206 


.SCO  TTl b  II  FOLK-L  0 RE. 


% 


M 


?'i 


»'■ 


u 


'Hi'    ;: 


of  the  old  masters,  but  yet  full  of  admiration  for  a 
system  that  had  educated  men  who,  in  popular  opin- 
ion, could  walk  from  Al)erdeen  to  the  Wall  of  China 
without  meetinji^  with  any  diflBculties  m  the  way  of 
unknown  tongues. 

These  new  pedagogues  loved  learning  on  its  own 
account,  and  soon  began  to  awaken  an  interest  in 
the  youth  of  the  parish,  who  looked  forward  to  the 
probabilities  of  a  college  course,  and  perhaps  a  i)ro- 
fessional  career  beyond. 

Amongst  half  a  dozen  youths  then,  scanning  their 
Horace,  advancing  cautiously  through  Greek  sen- 
tences, and  beginning  to  master  the  difficulties  of 
Euclid  and  algebra,  the  burning  Church  question 
was  at  all  times  welcome,  and  the  arguments  that 
were  wielded  on  one  side  or  the  other  were  all  duly 
w^eighed  and  gravely  considered — nay,  ofttimes 
argued  as  well. 

Without,  however,  entering  into  polemics ;  with- 
out discussing  the  "  V^eto  Act  "  or  marking  out  the 
beauties  or  defects  of  methods  that  had  been  re- 
commended to  pour  oil  upon  those  troubled  waters 
that  thereafter  obtained  the  designation  of  the 
"Ten  Years  Conflict,"  I  shall  at  once  come  to  what 
may  be  termed  the  crowning  point  of  oui'  ecclesias- 
tical troubles — the  "  Culsalmond  Riot." 

There  were  doubtless  grievances  connected  with 


T 


NON-INTliUSIOy. 


207 


the  law  of  patronage,  and  there  were  rights  belong- 
ing to  Church  membership  that  were  utterly  ignored, 
and,  to  remove  the  one  class  and  secure  the  other, 
a  torrent  of  burning  zcil  had  rolled  over  tl»e  land 
like  a  mighty  stream,  that  half  measures  were  as 
powerless  to  stem  as  was  Mrs.  Partington's  broom 
to  sweep  back  the  waves  of  the  Atlantic. 

In  Sillerton  we  knew  that  trouble  was  to  be  ex- 
pected. It  was  not  certainly  known  that  there  was 
on  the  programme  a  "  Hiot  at  Culsalmond,"  but  it 
as  certainly  was  anticipated  that  the  settlement 
there  would  be  anything  but  peaceful,  while  it  was 
also  pretty  generally  believed  that  the  parishioners 
would,  on  the  day  of  settlement,  be  reinforced  by 
sympathizers  who  would  leave  no  means  untried  to 
prevent  the  settlement  from  taking  place. 

We  shall  here  epitomize  the  circumstances  of  the 
case.  There  was  a  vacancy  in  Culsalmond — a  sad  one 
certainly — and  the  Presbytery  of  Garioch  had  de- 
cided to  induct  the  Rev.  Mr.  Middleton,  assistant  to 
the  late  incumbent,  and  the  patron's  presentee,  on 
the  eleventh  day  of  November,  to  the  church  and 
parish  of  Culsalmond. 

Now,  seeing  that  the  late  incumbent  had  been 
deposed  for  drunkenness,  it  might  have  been  a  wise 
thing  to  have  settled  there  some  man  of  more  than 
ordinary  ability  and  parts,  who  might  have  gradu- 


n 


1 


,    ^ 


20« 


.SCO  TTIS II  FOL  K  L  O  U  E, 


all}  uiidniie  llic  evil  that  his  eniii;*  brotlMjr  hRd 
c'Diitrivi'd  to  do.  Uut  tliis,  of  course,  whs  not 
usually  a  mailer  of  inteiesl  to  tiie  patron,  wIk),  if 
lie  presciittul  liie  sou  of  an  aspiring  tenant  to  the 
liviii;;',  r(>!if(;n'i'd  a  lasliug  favor,  and  occasionally 
rei)li'iiislied  his  own  depleted  pocket-book. 

WhaU'ver  was  the  cause,  it  was  well  known  that 
the  IJevcieiid  Mr.  Middleton  was  not  by  any  ineaus 
the  ehoici!  of  the  people.  At  the  same  time,  the 
Preshylery  were  precisely  in  the  position  of  a  jud^e 
who  had  to  pass  sentence  in  accordance  with  exisi- 
ing  laws.  The  judge  had  no  jurisdiction  over  the 
franiiii  ;;(>f  laws,  hut  had  simply  to  act  in  accordance 
with  sue'i  as  had  been  placed  upon  the  Statute  Book. 

And  so  with  Ihe  Presbyteiy  of  Garioch ;  they 
were  not  the  f  rauiers  of  laws,  but  simply  the  execu- 
tive. The  [neseutee  of  Culsalniond  came  before 
them  armed  with  the  legal  documents  tliat  proved 
his  position,  and  as  soon  as  the  Presbytery  were 
satisfied  as  to  his  learning,  character,  and  divinity, 
and  no  relevant  objections  were  offered  aiid  sus- 
tained, there  was  but  one  coui*8e  open  to  them. 
The  Presbytery  of  Garioch  therefore  decided  to 
induct  Mr.  Middleton  on  the  eleventh  d«y  of  No- 
vember, and  appointed  the  Reverend  George  Peter, 
of  Kem nay,  to  preside  on  the  occasion. 

From  rumors   that   liad   reached    Silleit<«i   thnt 


r 


NoX'iyTiicsroy. 


'20',) 


the  parish ioiiers  would,  by  fair  or  foul  moans,  resist 
the  settlcnieiit,  a  fellow-studeiit  jind  I  thcreuiKin 
resolved  to  put  in  an  appearance  at  Culsaluiond  on 
that  eventful  November  day. 

Only  fouiteen  miles  or  so  separated  us  from  the 
field  of  exi)oct(Ml  battle,  and  the  day  before  found  us, 
about  its  close,  in  the  village  of  Old  llayne,  where 
we  arranged  to  pass  the  night. 

Brussels,  the  night  before  Waterloo,  was  not  more 
moved  than  that  quiet  village  the  night  before  tht 
Culsalmond  settlement.  Alas !  no  Uryside  Byron 
has  arisen  to  perpetuate  in  song  what  then  tran- 
spired. 

Speedily  it  seemed  to  ooze  out  that  two  Moder- 
ates, youths  certainly,  had  come  so  far  to  see  the 
conflict  that  was  likely  to  take  place  the  following 
day.  Old  Rayne,  unlike  Sillerton,  was  strong  hi 
Non-intrusion  sentiment,  and  soon  its  champions 
appeared,  prepared  to  do  bfvttle  for  the  great  cause. 
I  have  now  but  a  dim,  a  very  dim  recollection  of  the 
debate  that  followed.  We  two  stood  alone  against 
the  Rayne  warriors,  find  did  battle  for  the  Auld 
Kirk  as  best  we  could. 

It  was,  however,  a  hard  fis'ht,  and  when  I  think 

of  it  now,  after  these  long  years,  I  feel  considerably 

surprised  to  think  that  two  mere  schoolboys  could 

have  held  their  own  against  the  sturdy  common 
14 


I   ^ 


210 


SCOTTLSU  FOLK-LORE. 


sense  iiiul  genuine  wit  and  rustic  irony  tliat  were 
employed  against  ttieni.  Truly  the  race  is  not  ever 
to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong. 

Notwithstanding,  however,  the  points  we  made, 
and  the  foes  we  routed,  we  began  to  weary  of  the 
apparently  interminable  nature  of  the  contest.  Just 
then  a  happy  thought  seemed  to  strike  my  comrade, 
who  ^vas  at  least  four  or  live  years  my  senior,  that 
it  w<i3  full  time  that  the  di^icussion  should  come  to 
a  close,  and  that  ordiujiry  rcasoiiing  was  evidently 
not  the  weapon  best  suited  to  h^-l  our  opponents. 

Suiting  himself,  llit'refore,  to  the  exigencies  of  the 
case,  and  tlie  course  of  actioii  lie  had  resolved  to 
take,  he  quoted  from  Acts  that  never  existed,  and 
from  speeches  th  it  had  never  been  made,  to  prove 
the  stand  we  hud  taken,  and  the  resnlt  was  start- 
ling. Day,  date,  and  ilie  ij)sissima  verba^  were 
quoted,  and  as  there  were  no  documents  on  the  spot 
available  to  rebut  the  statements  advaiiced,  the  re- 
sult was  very  gratifying  to  us,  and  the  enemies  of 
the  Kirk  were  smitten,  "hip  and  thigh,"  like  the 
Philistines  of  old  before  the  irresistible  prowess  of 
Samson. 

Some  one  might  naively  hint  here,  "And  by  the 
selfsame  weapon."  Xay,  gentle  reader,  not  so;  that 
debater  made  his  mark  where  Dugald  Dalgetty  got 
his  learning — in  Marischal  College,  Aberdeen— and 


NON-INTRUSION. 


211 


the 

that 

got 

and 


if  any  one  who  reads  this  page  feels  in  any  way  anx- 
ious to  know  who  routed  the  Non-intrusionists  of 
Rayne,  let  him  look  into  the  chronicles  of  that 
famous  seat  of  learnuig,  and  amongst  the  first  bur- 
sars between  1840  and  ten  years  thereafter  he  will 
find  the  name  of  my  comrade. 

Verily,  had  he  been  so  inclined,  he  might  have  be- 
come Senior  Wrangler  of  some  celebrated  English 
University,  as  he  was  undoubtedly  first  wrangler  in 
the  quiet  village  of  Old  Rayne  on  that  eventful  even- 
ing in  November;  but  his  lines  fell  to  him  in  other 
places. 

We  were  eventually  left  in  possession  of  the  field ; 
the  baffled  disputants  one  by  one  disappeared,  and 
we  were  anything  but  sorry  that  it  was  so. 

Ten  miles  over  country  roads  had  made  a  few 
hours  of  rest  peculiarly  desirable,  and  the  tension, 
of  the  tongue-and-mentiil  struggle  with  the  cham- 
pions of  Non-intrusion,  had  been  like  the  last  grain 
of  sand  that  broke  the  camel's  back.  Supremely 
happy  were  we  when  we  found  ourselves  alone;  few 
preparations  were  needed  to  compose  our  wcaiy 
limbs  for  the  couch  of  rest;  and  the  ringing  sound 
of  the  last  hobunih'd  boot  had  snai'celvdied  iwvav  on 
the  cobble-paved  street  of  Old  Rayne  ere  our  heads 
lesied  on  our  pillows,  and  wc  weie  folded  in  the 
soporific  arms  of  ]Morpheus. 


h   I 


I. 


212 


SCOTTJSU  FOLK-LORE. 


':! 


fll,: 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


THB  CULSALMOND   RIOT. 


.1  :' 


Whyles  on  the  strong-wing'd  tempest  fly  in,' 
Tirlin'  the  kirks. 

— Address  to  the  Deil. 

Next  morning  found  us  ready  for  the  road.  It 
was  a  cold  November  morning.  Bennachie  had 
donned  his  white  mantle,  and  snow-flurries,  with 
occasional  showers  of  hard,  biting  hail,  greeted  us 
as  we  wended  our  way  towards  the  Church  of 
Culsalmond,  which  stood  on  an  eminence  that  tested 
well  our  staying  powers,  ere  we  conquered  the  "  stey 
brae"  that  lay  between. 

If  company  could  help  our  cold  tramp  that  morning 
— or  forenoon,  we  should  rather  say,  as  Wb  intended 
to  reach  the  church  some  time  between  11  a.m.  and 
noon — we  certainly  had  it  to  our  hearts'  content. 

From  the  farthest  corners  of  the  Garioch,  men 
and  youths,  moved  by  patriotic  fires,  or  simple 
curiosity,  advanced  in  the  direction  c.f  Culsulinond. 
The  whole  district — from  Kintore  in  the  southeast 
to  parishes  far  beyond  the  Glens  of  Foudland — was 


,:  -issi 


THE  CULSALMOND  RIOT. 


213 


deeply  moved,  the  elements  of  combustion  were  al- 
ready kindled,  and  the  volcano  was  ready  to  burst 
forth  on  the  heights  of  Culsalmond. 

The  day  was  too  cold  for  continuous  disputation ; 
generally  we  trudged  on  in  doggerl  silence,  and  in 
due  course  we  reached  our  destination  and  seated 
ourselves  on  an  old  tombstone  near  the  church. 

So  far  as  I  can  recollect,  there  was  no  house  of 
eutertaiinncnt  near,  but  it  seemed  as  if  Scotch 
cauLJoji  liad  provided  against  all  contingencies,  and 
thiit  not  a  few  were  enabled,  by  the  help  of  a  little 
mountain  dew,  to  refresh  the  inner  man  alter  their 
long  and  arduous  walk,  and  to  kindly  temper  to  the 
shorn  lambs  (God  save  the  mark ! )  the  biting 
showers  that  still  swept  over  hill  and  dale. 

Deep  speculation  was  at  work  as  to  what  the 
Presbytery  would  do.  But,  judging  from  the  show 
of  legal  assistance  that  was  exhibited  around  the 
church  and  manse,  there  was  no  doubt  but  that 
Mr.  Middleton's  settlement  was  to  be  proceeded 
with.  One  thing  to  me  seemed  remarkable.  The 
more  prominent  firebrands,  as  we  learned  from  a 
j)ari.shioner,  were  almost  all  strangers,  I^erliaps 
Culsalmond  was  not  a  forcing-house  for  orat<»rs. 
lie  that  as  it  may,  the  parishioners,  I  observed,  said 
very  little. 

They  were  pretty  generally  opposed  to  the  system 


^  ii 


214 


SCOTTISH  FOLK' LO HE. 


I: 


f 


i 


K« 


i»  ■  ■ 

m 

I'; 


1 


that  placed  a  clergyman  over  them,  no  matter  what 
their  feelings  were ;  but  against  the  presentee  per- 
sonally I  heard  not  an  evil  word  spoken,  and  the 
future  abundantly  proved  that  their  action  that  day 
proceeded  more  from  a  conviction  of  principle  than 
from  a  point  of  feeling. 

I  have  said  "tlieir  action,"  but  there  was  little,  if 
any  action  on  their  part  that  day,  and  what  was 
done  then  to  entitle  the  guardians  of  the  peace  to 
afterwards  call  the  circumstances  connected  with 
the  settlement  "The  Culsalmond  Riot  "was  done 
principally — perhaps  entirely — by  outsiders. 

One  epithet  of  contempt  I  heard  frequently 
applied  to  Mr.  Middleton — "Teetaboutie."  Tiie  ex- 
pression awakened  roars  of  laughter  and  shouts  of 
merriment.  Yet,  strange  to  say,  the  expression  was 
utterly  meaningless  in  itself,  and  was  simply  the 
name  of  a  place  where  the  presentee  once  lived. 

I  have  frequently  observed  that  in  Scottisii  song, 
sometimes  the  pathos  depends,  not  so  much  on  the 
sentiment  expressed,  as  on  the  voice  lingering  sympa- 
thetically on  perhaps  a  single  word.  What,  [ifter 
all,  is  in  our  well-known  and  really  charming  song 
"Robin  Adair  "  to  melt  us  to  deepest  sympathy  or 
even  tears  ?  And  yet,  when  the  simple  refrain  lov- 
ingly wails  forth  from  the  very  depths  of  the  heart, 
few  songs  can  be  more  touching. 


■^ 


THE  CULSALMOXD  lilOT. 


»)i  r. 


15 


Now,  it  was  just  so  with  Teetaboutie.  In  the 
word  itself  there  was  nothing.  If  meaning  there 
once  was,  that  meaning  had  probably  died  out,  even 
before  the  last  Druid  performed  his  rites  in  the 
shadow  of  the  "  Maiden  Stone.''  And  yet,  after 
hearing  Teetaboutie  uttered  by  the  human  voice 
that  day  in  all  its  possible  inflections — whispered  by 
the  young,  rising  like  a  slogan-yell  from  the  capa- 
cious throats  and  lungs  of  the  sturdy  ploughman, 
and  agahi  quavering  from  the  thin  and  pinched  lips  of 
men  bowed  down  with  years  and  hoary  with  age — 
uttered  through  almost  a  round  of  the  clock — uttered 
in  all  the  notes  of  the  gamut,  from  low  "  G "  to 
almost  any  conceivable  height  above,  and  in  all  its 
multifarious  tones,  expressing  only  deep  contempt 
and  irony,  one  may  easily  enough  imagine  what  the 
effect  might  be. 

Had  the  tenant  of  that  famous  place  offered  the 
writer  of  this  the  usufruct  of  that  farm,  free  of 
rental,  and  insisting  only  that  the  recipient  should 
bear  the  name,  as  all  Scottish  farmers  do  of  their 
farms,  the  only  reply  would  have  been  an  unmiti- 
gated "No!" 

Having  now  discussed  Teetaboutie  in  all  its  bear- 
ings, I  shall  again  take  up  the  narrative. 

It  is  now  past  eleven,  and  at  noon  precisely  the 
members  of  the  Garioch  Presbytery  intend  to  enter 


Hi 


m 


i 


216 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


i 

i 

■I, 
■.I 

Pi. 


I  '■■ 


;  I,,    1 


■h 


the  church.  The  crowd,  however,  had  no  idea  tliat 
such  an  entrance  should  be  effected,  and  to  carry 
out  their  purpose  they  closed  around  tlie  church 
doors.  No  Roman  soldier  linked  liis  shield  more 
closely  with  that  of  his  comrade,  when  assaultini* 
some  ancient  wall,  than  "  shoulder  to  shoulder " 
stood  those  sturdy  Presbyterians  who  that  day 
blockaded  the  church  doors  of  Culsalmond. 

At  last,  after  soi.»e  legal  or  ecclesiastical  formal- 
lies  had  been  attended  to,  the  word  passed  along 
\hd  line,  if  it  may  be  so  called,  that  the  Presby- 
tery v/ere  moving  towards  the  church.  The  an- 
swer vv,i:i  a  shout  of  defiance  and  an  additional 
squeeze,  as  if  some  gigantic  python  had  got  another 
coil  of  his  tail  around  you,  until  you  began  to  be  in 
doubt  as  to  how  much  more  pressure  you  could 
endure. 

The  I'resbytery  of  Garioch  now  approached  very 
close  to  the  condensed  crowd,  but  in  this  case 
"Tommy  didn't  make  room  for  his  uncle,"  and  ii 
looked  at  one  time  as  if  the  blockade  was  not  to  be 
broken.  One,  however,  of  the  County  Constabular\ 
had  taken  in  the  situation,  and  succeeded  in  carry- 
ing his  point.  lie  was  a  small  \m\\\  jiliysically,  and 
divesting  himself  of  his  uniform,  which  might  have 
opposed  his  progress  doorwaid,  he  somehow  con- 
trived to  worm  his  way,  without  creating  suspicion. 


n^PBiVI 


THE  CULSALMOSD  RIOT. 


217 


to  the  desired  spot.  A  quiet  and  iiiiiiotlced  turn  of 
the  key  and  the  blockiide  WHS  bioken. 

The  first  motion  of  the  huniiin  mass  cost  that  con- 
stable  a  fractured  riV>,  but  beyond  a  sharp  cry  of 
p.iin  we  knew  nothhig.  We  were  sensible  of  a  slow 
jjiinding  motion  that  was  in  unceasing  progress ; 
we  faced  sometimes  the  gable  of  the  church  and 
sometimes  the  everlasting  hills ;  we  were  conscious 
of  a  compressive  force  that  was  almost  unbearable; 
we  had  no  power  whatever  to  alter,  hi  the  very 
slightest  degree,  the  course  we  were  involuntarily 
taking,  but  we  saw  and  felt  that  we  were  approach- 
hig  slowly,  but  surely,  the  open  door. 

With  hands  high  overhead,  and  with  feet  inno- 
cent of  contact  with  the  gravel  or  grass  that  lay  be- 
neath them,  that  door  was  reached.  That  particular 
moment,  amidst  all  my  subsequent  experiences  and 
wanderings,  has  never  been  forgotten.  If  two  hun- 
dred pounds  upon  the  square  hich  was  what  I  en- 
dured before,  there  were  at  least  a  thousand  as  I 
slowly  rolled  past  one  of  the  doorposts. 

Not  more  swiftly  does  the  tensioned  string  regain 
its  normal  condition  when  the  tension  ceases,  than 
my  corporation  came  back  to  its  original  form.  I 
seemed  to  shoot  forward  as  if  an  old  resuscitated 
catapult  had  propelled  me. 

But,  in  fact,  there  was  a  double  propulsion.    The 


■m 


I 


218 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LOIiE. 


■\ 


;1 


!^ 


I 
4 

h 

I' 

;} 
>i 

r 

;';    " 
i? 

N4; 


one  was  produced  by  a  species  of  vacuum  in  front, 
and  tlie  propelling  power  behind ;  the  other  sprang- 
from  that  principle  of  love  of  life  that  stimulates 
many  of  the  forces  of  the  human  mind.  But,  to 
explain:  no  sooner  was  I  within  the  door  than  a 
soiuid  struck  on  my  ear  that  precluded  all  other 
sounds  whatever. 

That  there  was  a  perfect  pandemonium  there, 
may  go  without  saying.  The  roar  of  a  flooded  cata- 
ract was  nothing  in  comparison  to  the  mingled 
sounds  that  were  heard  within  that  building.  And 
yet  the  distinct  crack  of  a  beam  overhead  was  louder 
still. 

With  the  agility  of  youth,  stimulated  by  the  spur 
of  fear,  the  top  of  a  pew  was  reached,  a  few  bounds 
left  the  cracked  and  still  cracking  gallery  behind, 
and  with  a  careful  eye  to  the  possibilities  of  falling 
stars  and  things  of  that  sort,  I  speedily  found  my- 
self in  a  window,  and  considered  that  I  was  as  secure 
from  the  evil  clianoes  of  war,  as  any  one  might  w^ell 
be  while  be  remained  under  that  roof. 

From  my  perch  I  could  now  look  with  some 
equanimity  upon  things  transpiring  about  me.  I 
am  not  aware  whether  or  not  tlie  Moderator  ever 
ascended  the  pulpit  stei)s.  It  would  have  been  an 
act  of  supreme  folly  to  have  even  attempted  such  a 
thing,  as  both  stair  and  pulpit  were  already  occupied 


THE  C'UL SALMON JJ  RIOT. 


219 


to  repletion,  and  as  the  uproar  that  raged  on  every 
side  would  have  precluded  the  possibihty  of  any 
human  voice  being  heard,  were  it  loud  as  that  of  an 
African  lion. 

Piitiently,  very  patiently,  the  members  of  Presby- 
tery kept  their  usual  places  beside  the  pulpit  foot. 
Xor  was  this  an  easy  or  desirable  task.  The  cease- 
less roar  of  angry  and  determined  men,  irritated  the 
more  by  their  failure  to  del)iir  the  clergy  from  the 
church,  was  not  the  only  disturbing  element  there, 
but  i:)ieceb  of  wood,  of  stone,  and  of  lime  were  being 
thrown  in  every  direction  throughout  the  build- 
ing. 

And  well  did  the  Presbytery  of  Garioch  stand  the 
test.  There  might  have  been  ditt'erences  of  opinion 
as  to  the  goodness  of  their  cause  ;  there  was  but  one 
with  respect  to  their  bearinn' under  such  peculiarly 
trying  circumstances,  and  that  was  one  of  general 
sidmiration.  Pei'sonally,  I  was  prejudiced  in  favor 
of  our  clergy,  but  I  could  not  look  that  day  upon 
their  calm,  determined  bearing  without  thinking  of 
their  Covenanting  forefathei's  preaching  to  their 
scattered  followers  amidst  the  mosses  and  moors  of 
troubled  Scotland,  .vhere  the  sabres  of  Claverhouse's 
dragoons  might  at  any  moment  have  ended  both 
preaching  and  life  together. 

Such,  thought  I,  were  our  fathers  once,  and  such 


1-,^' 


i, 


2*20 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


are  their  sons  now.  After  waiting  for  a  consider- 
able time  for  ii  putieiit  jjejiiiii^',  the  members  of 
Presbytery  wilbdi't'W  in  a  l)()(Iy  from  the  buildinjj;;^ 
and  sought  the  quieler  rooms  of  llie  neij^iiboriiig 
nr.inse,  where  the  settlement  of  the  [)resentee  was 
legally  and  ecclesiastically  consummated. 

The  storm  that  raged,  however,  within  the  walls 
of  the  church  was  not  hushed  to  rest  when  the 
clergy  left  it.  "  IToly  Willie's  Prayer"  was  given 
from  the  pulpit  by  special  request;  ribald  songs 
were  sung  by  the  excited  and  sometimes  inebriated 
ploughmen  ;  the  bell  never  ceased  its  jowl  until  the 
shades  of  evening  were  coming  down  upon  the 
church  and  churchyard,  and  not  until  almost  all 
the  chief  actois  had  left  the  manse  for  their  com- 
paratively distant  homes,  did  the  revellers  pause  in 
their  weird-like  work,  did  the  su'oke  of  hundreds 
of  pipes  cease  to  roll  forth  from  the  shattered  and 
glassless  windows  of  the  now  dilapidated  building, 
and  did  that  old  bell  abandon  a  lugubrious  refrain 
that  has  never  been  rung  again,  and  we  sincerely 
hope  may  never  again,on  the  world-renowned  heights 
of  Culsahnond. 

A  few  days  afterwards  I  attended  a  wedding  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Sillerton,  where  the  Reverend 
Robert  Fordyce  officiated.  It  was,  of  course,  well 
known  that  he  had  been  at  Culsahnond  as  a  member 


TUE  Ci'LSALMOM)  lilOT. 


»>  >i 


of  the  Presbytery,  uud  thiit  while  on  his  way  home 
the  day  following,  and  not  veiy  far  from  the  village, 
some  slight  accident  happened  to  the  horse,  and,  in 
consequence,  minister,  man,  and  vehicle  got  landed 
in  the  ditch. 

A  friendly  parishioner  and  his  ploughman  who 
witnessed  the  accident  kindly  came  to  the  rescue, 
and,  with  some  little  difficulty,  all  were,  like  J(>hii 
Gilpin's  hat  and  wig,  soon  again  on  the  road.  The 
father  of  the  bride  was  somewhat  dull  of  heai-iiin-, 
but  on  this  occasion  he  seemed  duller  than  usual. 
The  fact  was  that  the  old  farmer  meant  to  quiz  the 
minister  and  succeeded.  Three  times  I  heard  the 
question  put,  "  Far  war  ye  comin'  fnie,  minister, 
the  ither  day  fin  yer  beastie  fell  i'  the  ditch?"  As 
often  the  answer  came,  but  in  rather  sttbdued  tones. 
The  fourth  "speerin"'  brought  a  reply  that  was 
heard  all  over  the  room,  "  From  Culsalmond,  sir  I 
from  Culsalmond." 

The  smothered  titter  that  rippled  through  the 
w^ell-filledapai'tment  showed  that  the  shot  had  told, 
and  the  good-natured  host,  showing  only  a  merry 
twinkle  in  his  eye,  did  not  pursue  the  conversation. 

Another  cleric:i]  friend  of  mine  in  after  years  was 
not  so  reticent  as  to  things  that  transpired  at  the 
riot,  and  more  than  once  induced  me  to  tell  the  story. 

I  had  seen  him  leave  the  manse  of  Culsalmond  on 


r?"*"**"- 


.bCO  in  SI  I  FOLK-  LOR  L\ 


I- 


n 


m 


thiit  eventful  evening,  und,  Jis  a  number  of  ruistics 
alLenipted  to  bur  his  way  along  Her  .Majesty's  high- 
way, he  leapt  his  horse  into  a  turni[)  iield.  Here  lie 
was  rather  elosely  followed  for  some  distanee  by  the 
rabble,  but,  being  well  mounted,  lie  got  "ght  dis- 
tance ahead,  and  at  last  saw  his  way  clear  to  the 
highway  again.  Wheelii)g  his  panting  nag  towards 
his  pursuers,  he  lifted  his  hat,  made  a  profound  sa- 
laam, and  rode  awav.  This  was  too  much  for  liis  tor- 
mentors.    One  cheer  was  raised,  and  the  chase  ended. 

This  story  he  delighted  to  repeat  long  yciirs  after- 
wards, and  that  exciting  ride  through  that  siiff  tur- 
nip-field gave  him,  in  its  remembrancje,  more  delight 
than  the  recollections  of  the  best  sermon  )  had  e\  er 
preached.     Such  are  we  all ;  such  is  hu  nature 

everywhere. 

I  saw  the  carriage  of  an  aristocratic  member  of 
Presbytery  also  leave  the  manse  under  difficulties. 
A  shower  of  something  h;irder  and  Irrger  than  hail- 
stones damaged  considerably  the  "•  Dali'ynii)le  Arms'' 
on  the  well  varnished  panels,  but  the  ecpianimity  of 
the  occupant  was  in  no  way  disturbed.  In  conver- 
sation afterwards  tlit^  gallant  baronet  ex[)l<iined  that 
an  ordinary  shower  of  stones  was  not  likely  to  intim- 
idate a  man  who  had  lived  for  years  with  only  a 
sheet  of  gray  paper  between  him  and  the  infernal 
region. 


if 

I  A  ' 


^  ^ 


THE  CVLS ALMOND  RIOT. 


223 


In  the  witness-box  some  short  time  afterwards, 
the  undaunted  elder  further  exi)laint'd,  th;it  lie  had 
spent  several  years  of  his  lii'c  in  latitudes  uhcre 
volcanic  eruptions  were  almost  of  daily  (ujcur- 
rence. 

Before  closing-  this  chapter  I  cannot  fail  to  remark 
the  peculiar  tendency  of  the  Scottisli  mind  to  expres.s 
its  fcelinn^s  in  verse  under  circumstances  of  an 
exciting  nature.  The  several  ecclesiastical  move- 
ments that  preceded  the  Disruption  of  1843  seemed 
to  arouse  this  tendency  to  action. 

I  have  in  my  possession  several  specimens  of  whnt 
were  once  ci^'led  "Culsalmond  Psalms,"  and  they 
exhibit  no  small  amount  of  lire  and  sarcastic  humoi-. 
I  presume,  however,  that,  as  in  the  case  of  the  letters 
of  Junius,  the  same  remaik  as  to  the  authorship 
may  be  repeated — Stat  nomhiis  umbra. 

In  my  own  case,  while  still  in  my  teens,  I  was  once 
guilty  of  a  slight  act  of  indiscretion  in  turning  into 
rude  verse  the  ludicrous  adventure  of  a  love- sick 
well-known  breeder  of  Aberdeenshire  cattle.  It  was 
never  intended  that  the  little  ''jeu  de  esprit"  sliould 
go  further  than  the  dining-room  table,  but  the  re- 
tentive memory  of  a  listener  innnortalized  v/hat 
should  have  been  committed  to  oblivion.  Xext 
market  day,  the  song  was  said  and  sung  through 
the  ancient  burgfc  of  Inverurie. 


It 


m 


I 


224 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LOIIE. 


Nor  was  it  cast  as  a  waif  upon  tlie  world,  for  the 
paternity  was  willingly  owned  by  one  who  that  day 
reaped  a  golden  harvest  from  its  sale. 

I  can  recall  still  the  sturdy  upper-country  poet, 
opening  his  musical  campaign  on  the  forenoon  of  a 
market  day.  Clad  in  home-spun,  the  stalwart  Glen- 
livat  man  tossed  the  loose  end  of  his  plaid  over  his 
shoulder,  and,  stepping  forward,  half  sung,  half 
recited  rhymes  such  as  the  following: — 

"  I'm  John  Milne  frae  Livat's  glen  ; 
I  wrat  it  doon  wi'  my  ain  pen. 
Over  the  mountains,  over  the  main, 
Ridin'  thro'  France,  and  gallopin'  thro'  Spain  : 
Skippin'  the  mountains  like  a  craw, 
And  o'er  the  hills  to  Americaa  I '' 

Such  was  the  poet  who  claimed  my  verses,  and  sold 
them,  too.  Unlike  the  great  Roman  Virgil,  I  left 
the  perpetrator  of  "petty  larceny  "  to  enjoy  his  gold 
and  his  laurels  in  peace,  but  sometimes  in  after 
years,  when  I  have  heard  a  verse  or  two  of  my  effu- 
sion quoted,  doubtless  a  very  sinister  smile  may  have 
played  around  my  lips. 

It  is  possible  that  even,  now  after  so  many  years 
have  come  and  gone,  some  old  friend  of  the  Garioch 
Presbytery  may  read  these  lines,  and,  thinking  of 
little  links  that  connected  him  with  those  troublous 
and  stormy  times,  smile  also,  and  half  own  that  thero 


TUJS  CULHALMOND  RIOT.  225 

were  more  Johnny  Milnes  in  the  world  than  one 

more  shadows  that  will  renmu.   shadows  to  the' 
end. 

History  but  repeats  itself,  and  even  with  regard 
to  the  Culsalmond  Psahns,  we  may  again  quote  the 
saying—    Stat  nominis  umbra/ 
'5 


226 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE. 


!" 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

LAST  DAYS  AT  SCHOOL. 

And  will  it  breathe  into  him  all  the  zeal, 
That  candidates  for  such  a  prize  should  feel, 
To  take  the  lead  and  be  the  foremost  still 
In  all  true  worth  and  literary  skill  ? 

— COWPER. 

With  the  close  of  events  narrated  in  the  last 
chapter,  the  ecclesiastical  battles  of  the  Gariocli 
ceased,  so  far  at  least  as  we  were  concerned,  and  the 
Latinists  of  Sillerton  had  settled  down  to  what  boys 
now  would  eiU  a  "steady  grind." 

Thne  was  creeping  on,  and  we  were  approaching 
that  age  when  we  were  expected  to  push  our 
fortune  on  a  wider  field  than  ui  the  parish  school. 
It  was,  indeed,  no  child's  play  that  lay  before  lu 
now. 

By  "us,"  I  mean  half  a  dozen  youths,  not  yet 
claiming  the  sweet  sixteen,  but  closely  approaching 
it,  and  grinding  up,  for  all  they  were  worth,  the 
different  branches  of  study  that  might  land  them 
amongst  the  list  of  prizemen,  who  by  and  by  would 


LAST  DAIS  AT  SCHOOL. 


MM  I 


reap  the  laurels  of  the  annual  competition  at  the 
two  Aberdeen  Universities,  then  two  in  everything 
but  divinity,  now  happily  blended  into  one  noble 
institution,  able  and  willing  to  educate  the  aspiring 
youth  of  the  North. 

The  subjects  on  which  the  competitors  would  be 
examined  were  simply  two,  namely,  the  rendering 
of  English  into  Latin,  and  vice  versa,  or  the  render- 
ing of  Latin  into  English,  or  as  we  culled  it,  "  version 
and  translation."  To  become  proficient  in  these  two 
subjects  required  no  small  amount  of  self-denial  and 
study. 

We  had  a  teacher  fresh  from  academic  halls  him- 
self, and  burning  to  send  youths  to  the  competition, 
who,  in  wirming  honors  to  themselves,  would  reflect 
a  portion  of  that  honor  upon  their  teacher.  We 
were  then  ably  coached.  The  usual  hour  for  school 
was  ten,  l)ut  the  teacher  and  Latinists  met  at  nine, 
so  as  to  have  a  good  hour  of  higher  education,  with- 
out those  interruptions  which  were  likely  to  occur 
when  the  ordinary  scholars  began  the  work  of  the 
day. 

Every  morning  a  version,  as  it  was  called,  was 
given  out,  while  the  one  of  the  day  before  was 
examined  and  duly  rated.  Tlow  anxiously  we 
listened  to  the  reading  of  the  daily  record  ! 

Men  waiting  to  hear  the  decision  of  a  jury  that 


f 


228 


SCOTTlsa  FOLK-LOBE. 


■4- 


m 


'A 


,1 


J' 


i*i 


chained  them  or  sot  them  free,  were  not  more  anxious 
than  we  were,  aiK\  when  the  name  came  with  the 
coveted  /Sine  en-ore,  this  was  one  of  the  happiest 
moments  of  our  life. 

But,  after  all,  was  this  not  a  foreshadowing  of 
many  a  scene  of  after-life,  where  we,  or  such  as  we, 
must  needs  be  judged  ?  Are  there  not  times  when 
the  malicious  efforts  of  enemies  may  conspire  to 
materialize  a  cloud  around  us ;  when  treacherous  lips 
will  whisper  doubtings  softly  to  the  ear,  that  would 
not  dare  to  speak  them  out  manfully,  face  to  face ; 
when  appearances  that  in  themselves  meant  little 
or  nothing  were  so  distorted  and  twisted  by  diabolicid 
manipulation  as  to  almost  prove  anything  whatever ; 
and  yet,  at  length,  when  the  vile  attempt  has  broken 
down,  when  the  clouds  of  cruel  suspicion  have 
"  rolled  by,"  when  they  who  may  have  been  led  to 
doubt  us,  have  found  cause  to  give  a  purer  and  holier 
judgment — then  the  verdict  of  our  boyhood's  teacher 
is  again  repeated,  and  to  our  ears  comes  once  Jigain 
the  pleasing  judgment — tSine  errore. 

And  looking  beyond  self,  there  are  few  who  have 
not  made  some  "maxies"  in  the  version  of  life. 
Ah  !  when  an  erring  brother  or  maybe  sister  is  being 
weighed,  let,  then,  our  gentler  sympathies  go  forth 
through  that  indescribable  feeling  that  links  one 
heart  to  another — go   forth   to  help  the  weak   to 


LAST  DAYS  AT  SCHOOL. 


•JJU 


■th 

)iie 

to 


weigh  down  the  beam  on  mercy's  side.  Such  niiiy 
l)e  like  bread  cast  upon  the  waters,  that  shall  yet  be 
found  again,  even  though  after  many  days. 

And  when  our  own  last  account  is  rendered,  may 
errors,  failings,  weaknesses,  transgressions  all  be 
blotted  out,  and  through  the  merits  of  One  who 
once  said — nay,  often  said — "Though  your  sins  be 
like  scarlet  they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow,"  and 
who,  though  now  exalted,  feels  as  we  feel,  in  the 
possession  of  a  nature  the  same  as  ours.  Then  may 
our  record,  with  all  its  imperfections,  be  accepted 
through  His  merits  alone,  and  over  the  blurred  and 
obliterated  evidences  of  much  shortcoming,  the  ver- 
dict be  clearly  and  distinctly  written  — «v/>^(^  errore. 

These  were  certainly  anxious  and  hard  times. 
With  us,  truly,  there  was  no  royal  road  to  the  grand 
truths  contained  in  the  writings  of  ancient  Greece 
and  Rome.  The  Latin  lludiments,  from  title-page 
to  finis;  Melvin's  Grannnar,  with  its  hundreds  of 
lines  of  Latin  hexameteis  ;  Greek  grammars,  Caesar, 
Virgil,  Horace,  Xenophon,  and,  as  a  species  of  alter- 
ative, arithmetic,  algebra,  and  geometry  thrown  in 
— this  was  the  "bill  of  fare"  on  which  the  choice 
youths  of  Sillerton  were  encouraged  to  try  their 
mental  teeth.     Nor  did  we  flinch  from  the  ordeal. 

We  were  well  coached,  as  stated  before.  The 
master  had  himself  travelled  over  the  same  road. 


230 


SCOTTISH  FOLKLORE. 


He  knew  every  step  of  the  way,  and  we  never  lacked 
encouragement  to  press  on — his  motto  and  ours 
being  ever  "  Excelsior."  As  an  example  of  the  ju- 
dicious treatment  we  received,  I  shall  recount  jin 
experience  of  my  own  in  the  earlier  stages  of  our 
Latin  ity. 

I  had  mastered  a  few  hundred  lines  of  Melvin's 
hexameters  without  any  extraordinary  difficulties, 
and  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  master,  when  suddenly 
a  change — a  change  for  the  worse — came  ovei'  me. 
My  memory  seemed  to  fail ;  the  lines,  usually  so 
easily  committed,  would  scarcely  limp  along;  and 
lessons  generally  were,  without  doubt,  a  sad  failure. 
I  must  have  looked  unhappy,  but  the  teacher's  coun- 
tenance expressed  despaii'.  He  quietly  took  me 
aside,  asked  wliat  was  the  matter,  and  questioned 
me  with  evident  anxiety  if  I  really  had  lost  my  in- 
terest in  classical  studies,  lost  my  senses,  lost  any- 
thing that  should  not  have  been  lost. 

I  owned  up  at  once.  Young  George  Washington, 
when  he  carved  the  paternal  cherry  tree  without  the 
paternal  permission,  was  not  more  candid  than  T.  I 
had,  unfortunately — very  unfortunately — Inid  my 
hands  upon  one  of  Jane  Porter's  novels — "Thaddeiis 
of  Warsaw  " — and  from  that  ill-fated  moment  no  line 
of  Melvin's  Grammar  could  find  a  resting-place  in  my 
memory. 


LAST  DAYS  AT  SCHOOL. 


231 


I  received  there  and  then,  and  most  kindly  too,  a 
holiday  sufficiently  long  to  enable  me  to  finish  my 
story ;  I  received  also  at  the  same  time  some  very  ex- 
cellent advice  which  I  have  never  since  forgotten,  ^i 
due  course  the  romance  speedily  passed  away  ;  ]>i\< !: 
came  the  hexameters  in  all  their  beauty  and  smoolli- 
ness ;  and  the  beam  of  satisfaction  that  played  over 
the  teacher's  face  as  he  listened  to  the  wisdom  of  the 
old  stern  grammarian  (known  by  the  nickname  of 
"  Old  Grim  " )  repeated  carefully  and  correctly  by 
the  lips  of  his  pupil,  showed  clearly  that  our  golden 
age  had  again  returned. 

Summer  was  now  amongst  the  things  of  the  past, 
the  golden  sheaves  of  autumn  had  all  been  stored 
away  in  the  huge  cornstacks  that  gladdened  the 
farmers'  hearts,  and  adorned  their  courtyards.  The 
little  boys  and  girls  of  the  village  were  looking 
forward  anxiously  to  the  next  moon  to  enjoy  the 
rustic  game  of  "hide  and  seek"  amongst  the  lights 
and  shadows  that  would  be  found  there;  but,  alas! 
there  was  no  "  hide  and  seek  "  in  store  for  the  busy 
Latinists. 

Probably  we  thought  and  said,  too,  with  a  sigh, 
"Every  dog  has  its  day,"  and  we  may  have  had  ours 
also  among  the  cornstacks.  "  Hide  nnd  sn^k"  was 
Unquestionably  a  fascinating  game  even  wiieii  played 
by  boys,  but  when  the  challenge  came,  '  lioys  and 


232 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LOUE. 


;t 


m 

i\ 


h^ 


girls  come  out  to  play,"  its  cliarms  were  increased  a 
thousand-fold. 

It  is  asserted  by  scientists  that,  on  even  a  calm 
ocean,  there  is  an  attraction  between  vessels  lying 
near  each  other,  that  may  bring  them  into  danger- 
ous proximity,  nay,  into  perilous  contact.  And  so, 
in  the  sweet  game  of  "hide  and  seek,"  how  often 
did  one  find  himself,  in  tiie  friendly  shadow  of  the 
cornstacks,  near  some  youthful  maiden,  whose 
sums  he  had  often  worked  out  for  her,  and  whose 
hand  he  was,  in  consequence,  permitted  to  gently 
press,  away  from  the  gairy  and  tell  tale  n^oonbearas. 

Ah!  much  do  I  fear,  were  the  truth  told,  that 
Thaddeus  of  Warsaw  was  not  the  only  disturbing 
influence  that  crept  into  the  i>arish  scliool  to  cripple 
our  hexameters ;  there  were  little  episodes  of  lo- 
mance  amidst  even  our  school-days  that  would  cross 
our  paths  to  interfere  at  times  with  sterner  duties, 
and  when  I  think  of  it,  the  reciprocating  squeeze  of 
a  gentle  hand,  or  the  kindly  blink  of  a  loving  eye, 
did  sometimes  make  sad  havoc  in  our  ranks. 

1  fear,  also,  that  in  these  cases  we  were  not  quite 
so  candid  as  when  the  Polish  patriot  was  at  fault* 
it.  would  have  taken  more  than  thumbscrews  to 
make  us  own  to  the  douce  dominie  that  samebonnie 
Jean  had  come  between  us  and  our  allotted  tasks; 
we  were  willing  to  stand  unlimited  chaffing  in  such 


LAST  DAYS  Ai   SCHOOL. 


1:33 


a  cause;  the  secret,  after  all,  was  our  own,  iind  were 
we  not  acting  wyt  to  Uio  advice  of  our  great  bard, 
imd  who  knew  better? — "  i\iid  keep  aye  sonietliiiig 
to  yoiirsell,  ye  diniia  tell  to  ony." 

The  autumn  games  were  then  not  for  ns,  and 
when  we  returned  to  school,  after  our  six  weeks  of 
holidays,  it  was  only  to  say,  "Good-bye,"  and  to  re- 
ceive  credentials  to  one  or  other  of  the  (irannnur 
Schools,  that  in  Old  or  New  Aberdeen  prepared 
youths  for  the  approaching  competition.  This 
course  was  not  always  adopted.  Boys  often  re- 
mained at  the  parish  school  to  the  very  last ;  but 
many  sought  the  Grammar  School,  as  affording  a 
wider  arena,  where  the  classical  athlete  could  find 
a  larger  number  of  competitors  with  whom  to 
measure  his  own  strength  and  prowess. 

My  own  departure  from  home  was  accompanied 
with  more  than  one  trial.  Leaving  home  with  all  its 
agreeable  associations,  and  generally,  for  the  first 
time,  is  far  from  pleasant.  Looking  forward  to  the 
dandy  jacket  of  a  smart  "middy,"  or  even  to  a 
month's  fishing  among  the  lochs  and  tarns  of  the 
gi'eat  Grampian  range,  makes  home-leaving  any- 
thing but  painful,  but  in  our  case,  there  was  no  play 
in  pros|)ect,  but  only  good  stern  work  before  us; 
the  midnight  oil  must  needs  be  burned ;  our  lottery 
was  not  *'  all  prizes  and  no  blanks ; "  the  prizes  were 


234 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LOUK. 


indeed  only  for  a  few,  and  when  the  short  roll  of 
the  successful  competitors  should  be  called,  at  least 
four-fifths  of  the  crowd  would  return  in  disapi)oliit- 
ment  to  their  lioines.  Many  of  these  last,  however, 
would  enter  the  classes  with  their  more  fortunate 
companions,  but  to  not  a  few  this  would  be  denied. 

Prior  to  the  competition  I  ranked  myself  among 
this  number.  I  had  been  given  to  understand  that 
my  entering  the  college  depended  entirely  on  my 
proving  a  successful  competitor.  Whether  it  was 
wise  or  otherwise  to  give  such  an  assurance  may  be 
diffiiMilt  to  determine.  Much  might  be  said  on  l)oth 
sidc^s.  Douljtless  what  was  done  was  done  for  the 
best,  and  at  all  events,  in  the  present  cjise,  while  it 
hinted  at  the  painful  consequences  of  defeat,  it  neither 
^^'o:lkened  hand  nor  heart  in  preparing  for  the  fray. 

My  fatiier,  with  commendable  caution,  had,  un- 
known to  any  member  of  the  family,  procured  for 
nuMhe  promise  of  a  presentation  bursary,  in  the 
event  of  my  defeat  at  the  competition,  but  with 
commendable  pride  he  much  preferred  a  bursary 
won  by  merit  alone.  Whether  or  not  he  was  grat- 
ified in  this,  we  shall  see  hereafter.  Often  have  I 
burned  the  midnight  oil,  but  never  more  unremit- 
tingly and  faithfully  than  then ;  often  have  I  seen 
the  rising  sun  peep  in  at  the  attic  window  to  startle 
eyes  that  had  not  yet  tasted  sleep,  but  there  was 


•I? 


LAST  J)Ays  AT  SCHOOL. 


235 


an  intenseness  in  the  work  (lonotlien,  that  was  never 
felt  afterwards  in  the  sjuno  ratio. 

There  was  tlien  an  issue  at  stake  that  might  cast 
sunshine  or  shadow  over  a  whole  lifetime — an  issue 
that,  in  its  intensity,  never  seemed  to  be  approached 
in  after  years. 

My  own  fate  seemed  to  he  within  the  compass  of 
my  own  hands,  and  hke  tlie  youthful  warrior  who 
buckled  on  for  the  flrst  time,  his  maiden  sword, 
to  me  victory  and  defeat  seemed  to  poise  upon  a 
level  beam. 

I  knew  that  all  Sillerton  stood  on  tiptoe  of  expec- 
tation ;  the  genial,  anxious  dominie  never  failed  to 
send  messages  of  encouragement  and  good  cheer ; 
and  round  the  family  hearth  I  well  knew  that  kindly 
hearts  felt  the  deepest  sympathy  in  all  my  experi- 
ences, and  never  ceased  to  long  and  pray  earnestly 
for  a  "  Godspeed." 

And  thus  the  weeks  passed  by  ;  the  versions 
approached  in  correctness  the  models  that  were  day 
by  day  placed  before  us,  till  sine  errore  became  the 
rule  instead  of  being  the  exception.  And  so  also 
with  other  studies. 

We  were  approaching  the  end  very  perceptibly, 
and  as  the  rector  closed  his  book  on  the  Saturday 
preceding  the  great  day  of  competition,  I  can  almost 
recall  his  parting  bow  before  dismissing  us,  and  hear 


236 


SCOTTISH  FOL K-LCUE. 


^ 


again  the  fervent  wish  that  we  might  distinguish 
miiselves  in  tiie  approacliiiig classic  tournanienL,  and 
shed  fresh  lustre,  not  only  ui)on  ourselves,  hut  uiK)n 
the  Grammar  School  of  Old  Aberdeen,  nay,  upon  its 
ipotor  as  well. 

Well  miglit  we  luive  all  replied,  prayerfully,  fer- 
vently, humbly,  *'  80  mote  it  be." 


I*; 


•  *  -    I  ..  •■ 


sh 

l(i 

ts 


THE  CONCLUSION. 


237 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE   CONCLUSION — THE   rO^rPETITION   AND 
THK    GOWN. 

He  that  no  more  must  say,  is  listened  more 
Than  they  whom  youth  and  ease  have  taught  to  gloze  ; 

More  are  men's  ends  mark'd,  than  their  lives  before  • 
The  setting  sun,  and  music  at  f'.e  close, 

As  the  last  taste  of  sweets  is  sweetest  last ; 

Writ  in  remembrance,  more  tlian  things  long  past. 

—Hichard  II, 

On  a  bleak  inoniing  near  the  end  of  Oct(»l)cr, 
between  the  year  1840  and  a  decade  later,  some- 
what over  one  hundred  and  fifty  competitors  sat 
down  in  the  long  room  of  King's  College,  to  test 
their  skill  in  an  academic  tourney,  that  had,  alter 
all,  but  a  few  prizes  to  offer,  and  wliere  also,  tlie 
great  majority  would  feel  like  the  unhorsed  knights 
of  old,  when  sword  and  lance  both  lay  shivered  on 
the  ground. 

No  roll  was  called,  for  the  competition  was  open 
to  Scotland,  or,  for  that  matter,  to  the  world  at 
large;  and  had  a  "heathen  Chinee"  and  a  fur-clad 
Esquimaux  presented  themselves  at  that  table,  they 


2^8 


-SCO TTlt^lI  FOLK-LOhE. 


would  have  found  a  place,  and,  provided  their  La- 
tinity  was  up  to  the  mark,  they  had  as  good  a  chance 
of  success  as  the  Scottish  youth  who  had  studied 
his  classics  in  some  of  the  famous  Grammar  Schools 
of  ths  north. 

Two  or  three  professors  were  on  duty.  Poor  lit- 
tle Tulioch  went  limping  round  the  room,  as  anx- 
ious niid  fidgety  as  if  he  were  one  of  the  competi- 
tors I'imself ;  Greok  "iralA-y,/'  tliougli  old  and  frail, 
still  lield  his  own,  and  looked  us  if,  wlien  hi  liis 
pnnie,he  would  have  been  morelikely  to  have  proved 
the  victor  in  an  old-time  wrestling  match  than  t^ 
win  the  poet's  crown  at  the  Olympic  games. 

And  last,  though  not  least,  came  1 '  rly  Prosody, 
as  we  always  called  our  Professor  of  Humanity. 
We  believed,  indeed,  that  Prosody  would  rather 
have  arrayed  himself  in  a  Roman  toga  than  encase 
his  massive  limbs  in  the  more  artificial  habiliments 
of  a  modern  Scot.  I  never  looked  at  Ir'm  without 
dreaming  of  Cicero,  and  it  was  generally  believed, 
at  least  amongst  the  "  I^ageants,"  that  Prosody 
thought  in  Latin  hexameters. 

The  version,  as  it  was  called,  was  slowly  dictated, 
and  thereafter  we  all  bent  ourselves  resolutely  to 
our  task.  The  only  book  allowed  us  was  the  ordi- 
nniy  Latin  dictionary,  and  keen  eyes  watched  that 
no  other  tome  or  notes  of  any  kind  were  used.    The 


THE  CONCLUSION. 


230 


hours  wore  on  in  profound  stillness,  broken  only  by 
the  peculiar  sound  that  a  hundred  and  fifty  pens, 
operating  all  at  the  same  time,  make  upon  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  sheets  of  paper. 

A  change  of  watchmen  comes,  and  as  the  guard  is 
relieved  in  comes  the  good  old  Dr.  Hercules  Scott, 
with  a  smile  upon  his  kindly  face  that  told  as  plainly 
as  so  many  words,  that  he  personally  would  be  glad 
could  we  all  be  first  bursars  or  prizemen.  Dr.  Fyfe 
follows  trippingly,  and  walks  along  with  as  little 
apparent  interest  as  if  he  would  gladly  boil  down 
all  the  Latin  and  mathematics  in  the  universe  in 
one  of  his  own  retorts. 

And  last  glides  in,  for  all  the  world  like  a  feline, 
the  erudite  Professor  of  Natural  Philosophy. 
Smooth-tongued  was  he  as  "Oily  Gammon"  him- 
self, but,  a  stranger  to  our  northland  ways,  he  never 
gained  the  students'  hearts,  and  never  awoke  any- 
thing more  than  a  hiss  in  after-days,  when  profes- 
sors and  students  sought  the  Public  Ilall  on  oc- 
casions of  discipline. 

There  were  more  professors  present  than  those 
mentioned,  but  I  have  sketched,  very  roughly  it  may 
be,  at  least  the  principal  figures. 

And  so  the  day  wears  on.  Time  was  called  at 
last,  and  each  candidate,  after  placing  a  certain 
number  on  his  exercise  and  the  same  number  and 


240 


.SCO  msii  FO  L  K- L  <)  i:e. 


ii 


m 

It-!- 


r^ 


Ijis  iiuine  on  a  coui)oii  Jittaclied,  separated  U>e  tvi 
and  placed  the  pieces  in  different  Ixjxes. 

Tiiis  closed  the  first  day's  work—  in  fact,  the  rrore 
inipoitant  part  of  the  coniixititif n — as  the  transhi 
tion  of  Latin  into  English  was  not  considered  1  y 
any  moans  so  drastic  ii  test  of  mental   capacity,  i;s 
the  turning  of  English  hito  choice  ('i(er»niian  Liitin. 

Xext  day  found  us  at  our  post  again,  with  lie 
same  guard  mounted  over  us,  and  wlien  the  lamrs 
for  work  weie  exhausted  time  was  again  calle^l,  ihe 
same  boxing  operation  took  place  as  on  the  dny 
previous,  and  we,  alone  or  in  snnill  gi'oups,  wende<l 
(jur  ways  t<>  our  respective  places  of  abode,  to  g«r 
over  our  work  again  in  the  quiet  of  our  own  rooms, 
to  mark  what  errors  we  had  made,  if  any,  and  to 
calculate  our  chances  of  success. 

The  few"  days  that  intervened  between  the  competi 
tion  days  and  that  on  which  the  list  of  prizemen  or 
bursars  would  be  published  in  the  Public  Hall  of 
the  College  dragged  very  wearily  .along.  I  had 
examined  and  re-examined  every  word  and  line  and 
sentence ;  idioms  had  all  been  thoroughly  kmked 
into;  genders  of  nouns,  conjugations  of  verks,  and 
rules  of  syntax  had  all  been  api>lied  as  a  line  and 
plummet  to  the  double  exercise,  and!  felt  reasonably 
satisfied  with  what  T  had  done. 

The  schoolmaster  of  Sillerton  was  duly  communi- 


THE  CONCLUSION. 


1>41 


cated  with  and  his  opinion  requested.  His  reply 
came — We  of  Sillerton  were  pretty  equally  matched, 
so  far  as  talents  or  scholarship  went,  but  in  nervous 
susceptibility  we  were  indeed  very  different.  The 
strain  had  proved  too  much  for  my  comrades ;  they 
liiid  simply  lost  their  heads,  and  in  consequence 
errors  had  crept  in — errors  that  might,  nay,  that 
certainly  would,  count  heavily  against  them. 

I  alone  seemed  likely  to  be  successful :  in  my 
exercises  there  were  no  maxies — no  glaring  errors ; 
there  was,  in  one  or  two  places,  room  for  improve- 
ment, but  taking  one  thing  with  another,  the  chances 
of  success  were  on  my  side.  Mark,  "  chances  "  only. 
The  kindly  teacher  felt  very  confident,  as  he  after- 
wards told  me,  but  he  feared  to  raise  my  hopes  too 
high,  lest  I  might  feel  disappointment  the  more 
bitterly  should  I  have  already  almost  anticipated 
the  joys  of  triumph. 

At  last  the  day — the  eventful  day — arrived. 
Accompanied  by  ray  father,  who  had  come  from 
Sillerton  that  morning  with  a  few  others  equally  in- 
terested, I  wended  my  way  from  New  to  Old  Aber- 
deen, past  the  canal  bridge,  beneath  which  then 
passed  many  a  barge  laden  with  the  produce  of  the 
Garioch  and  Buchan  districts ;  past  the  Red  Lion 
of  famous  memory,   with   the  Latin  motto,  iServa 

Jugunij  painted  boldly  upon  its  capacious  signboard, 
x6 


242 


SCOTTISH  FOLK-LORE, 


f 


and  which  all  students,  from  time  immemorial, 
persisted  in  translating,  "  Hand  round  the  jug  " — 
past  this  famous  hostelry,  I  said,  until,  passing  under 
the  lofty  and  elegant  granite  crown  that  distin- 
guishes the  well-known  and  ancient  seat  of  learning, 
we  entered  the  great  square,  which  we  found  crowded 
by  hundreds,  attracted  thither  by  a  motive  the  same 
as  that  which  had  drawn  ourselves. 

A  few  anxious  and  restless  moments  pass ;  then 
the  old  bell  clangs  loudly  from  a  neighboring  tower ; 
the  massive  doors  are  thrown  open,  and  we  rush  in, 
as  if  every  man  and  boy  among  us  firmly  believed 
in  the  adage,  "  Deil  tak'  the  hindmost." 

There,  in  a  railed-in  dais,  clothed  in  silken  gowns, 
and  wearing  shiny  hats,  sat  the  members  of  the 
Senatus  Academicus,  prepared  to  disclose  the  secrets 
that  were  contained  in  a  roll  that  lay  on  the  book- 
board  before  them. 

Soon  every  sound  was  hushed  in  expectation  of 
the  approaching  denouement,  and  I  doubt  not  every 
competitor  felt  much  as  a  'julprit  does,  as  the  jury- 
men file  into  the  room,  and  the  foreman  stands  ready 
to  make  known  the  decision  of  the  twelve  men — 
«  good  and  true." 

The  sacrist,  armed  with  the  symbol  of  authority, 
approaches  the  dais,  and  laying  the  sceptre  upon  the 
table,  steps  aside  to  await  the  issue  of  events.    There 


TIJi:  CONCLUSION. 


243 


1^; 


is  still  a  moment's  pause,  and  then  a  whisper  paspes 
along  the  professorial  line,  and  seems  particularly 
directed  to  the  centre  figure  of  the  group. 

1  at  once  recognize  a  very  aged  man,  whom  I 
had  observed  while  we  were  waiting  outside,  ap- 
proaching the  great  hall  door,  leaning  on  the  arm 
of  a  lady,  who  there  left  him  in  the  care  of  one  of  the 
College  officials. 

This  I  learned  afterwards  to  be  Principal  Jack, 
now,  of  course,  relieved  from  duty,  except,  perhaps, 
when  his  venerable  appearance  and  great  age  would 
tend  to  add  additional  dignity  to  a  professorial 
meeting.  I  observed  also  at  a  glance  that  the  old 
Principal  was  blind. 

As  he  rose  slowly  to  his  feet,  the  other  members 
of  the  Senatus  rose ;  the  roll  of  names  was  placed 
in  the  old  man's  hands,  and  the  Professor  standing 
next  to  him  seemed  ready  to  whisper  each  name,  as 
it  came  in  order  of  merit,  to  the  Principal's  ear.  I 
need  not  say  how  awful  was  the  silence  now. 

At  last,  at  last  it  was  broken ;  the  whispered  name 
came  in  measured,  yet  in  tremulous  tones  from  the 
old  Principal's  lips,  and  one  shout  of  triumph  rose 
"  loud  and  long  "  from  the  friends  and  relatives  of 
the  successful  first  bursar,  who  now  stepped  forward 
at  the  beck  of  the  sacrist  to  a  place  of  honor  nearer 
the  Professorial  line. 


244 


aCOTTISII  FOLK-LOBE. 


If     ; 


Another  and  another  name  is  called,  and  my 
hopes  lire  beginning  to  sink  low.  Ten  or  eleven 
names  have  been  called,  and  yet  Sillertou  is  un- 
represented amongst  the  beaming  line  of  happy  faces 
now  lifted  immeasurably  above  all  the  rest.  The 
twelfth  name  comes.  Can  it  be  possible  ?  Can  I  be 
deceived  ?  Could  there  be  another  of  the  same  name  ? 
No  major,  no  minor  is  appended. 

A  hearty  shout  greets  my  victory;  a  dozen 
friendly  hands  push  me  forward,  and  Donald  An- 
drew, of  Sillerton,  stands  amongst  the  acclaimed 
bursars  of  King's  College  and  University  of  Aber- 
deen. 

Little  more  remains  to  be  told.  The  same  after- 
noon my  delighted  father  had  me  arrayed  in  cap  and 
gown  in  one  of  the  famous  clothing  establishments 
of  Bon- Accord. 

I  would  have  fain  taken  a  run  to  Sillerton  to  spend 
a  quiet  day  at  home,  and  in  truth  I  needed  it,  and 
perhaps  to  enjoy  the  congratulations  of  mv  friends 
and  acquaintances  there,  but  this  might  not  be. 
There  was  no  railroad  in  those  days  to  Sillerton,  and 
matriculation  day  was  close  at  hand.  I  decided  to 
remain,  and  that  evening  I  saw  my  father  off  on  the 
old  «  Defiance  "  mail-coach. 

"  Good-bye,  Donald,  and  God  bless  you,"  said  the 
old  man,  cheerily,  in  a  dialect  learned  in  school  on 


1^    i 


THE  CONCLUSION. 


245 


the  banks  of  the  Spey,  leiirned  as  Sillerton  boys 
leurned  their  Latin  and  Greek,  and  which  still,  on 
occasions,  even  after  tiie  lapse  of  so  many  years,  I 
sometimes  seem  to  hear  as  the  softened  echo  of  a 
familiar  voice  gently  thrown  back  from  a  distant 
hill.  "Wherever  you  are,"  he  said,  "never  forget 
that  you  are  a  gentleman." 

As  the  driver  gathered  together  the  reins  in  his 
hand,  and  the  scarlet-coated  guard  gave  the  last 
signal  on  his  official  horn  that  Her  Majesty's  "  De- 
fiance"  was  ready  to  start  on  its  journey  northward, 
he  had  only  time  to  add,  "  I  will  remember  you 
kindly  to  the  schoolmaster,  and  to  your  other  friends 
in  Sillerton,  nor  will  I  forget  to  tell  all  at  home 
that  you  looked  right  well  in  your  King's  College 
Cap  and  Gown." 

THE  END. 


«  •  •    •  • 


'  •    »  •  •  >     • 

i     »    »  u  .'I    «   »    »  , 

4.S  *■#*.  4  g 


V 


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•  I  • 

•  >  I  i  • 

t  ■  • 

4  J  •  »  i 


t    • 

»  » 


•  »  »  1. 

*  1  V 

t        t  t  > 

*  ■  • 

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